Family Secrets: Books 5-8

by Virginia Kantra

  Marcuss stomach sank. Tell her. Tell her what?

  Whatever you feel is necessary to ensure her cooperation.

  Ah, hell. Hed rather crawl back into the steaming, sparking belly of the Stoker than face the ambassador with the news that shed just been kidnapped for her own good.

  But Baxter was counting on him.

  Samantha Barnes, though she didnt know it, depended on him.

  And Marcus had never in his life let his team down in the fourth quarter.

  He looked from the computer lying flat on the desk to Baxters watchful, waiting eyes. When do we do it?

  Three

  L ieutenant Evans was upset.

  Samantha stole another look at his hard profile in the back seat of the limo. At least, she thought he was upset. It was hard to tell beneath that stoic he-man front and the officer-and-a-gentleman polish. Maybe it was the tension around his usually smiling mouth. Maybe it was the strain in his clear blue eyes.

  Frankly, she wasnt sure what she had noticed or why she should care. Shed spent the past year with her senses wrapped in cotton batting. She rather resented Evanss ability to poke through her absorption. He certainly wasnt letting itwhatever it wasget in the way of his doing his job.

  She straightened against the Towncars leather seat. And she wasnt about to let it get in the way of her doing hers.

  Tonight she had an intimate dinner for forty at the embassy of Holzberg, Delmonicos eastern neighbor. The Holzberg ambassador was determined to impress upon her the pride and independence of his tiny coastal nation. Samantha was equally committed to communicating that unless Holzberg strengthened its ties to the U.S., it was vulnerable to General DeBruzkyas military buildup in Rebelia.

  She had the peace of Eastern Europe to worry about. She couldnt waste time brooding over her hunky bodyguards moods.

  Barred light from the streetlamps slid over his large, square knee.

  Anyway, she couldnt ask Evans what was bothering him. Agent Walker and the driver were listening from the front seat. She wouldnt slide the privacy glass closed again. Not in the intimacy created by the spangled night and the cool, dark interior of the car. Not with Walker watching in the rearview mirror.

  The limo rolled to the curb of the Holzberg Embassy. The lit steps teemed with red-jacketed wait staff and dark-suited security personnel. Walker sprang to the sidewalk. Evans followed more slowly. He handed her out of the car, his touch firm and impersonal, his mouth a tight line.

  She wondered if hed been injured somehow in the attack on the Stoker and if his secret wound caused him pain. She wondered if his afternoon meeting at Diplomatic Security had gone badly. Or maybe hed had a fight with his girlfriend. Did he have a girlfriend? Of course he did.

  Mostly Samantha wondered if she were guilty of weaving a lot of silly, romantic fantasies around him because her social life was boring, her personal life empty and her sex life nonexistent.

  Her heart shook. She closed her eyes.

  Maam? Evanss voice broke into her thoughts.

  Samantha opened her eyes and summoned a smile. Thank you, Lieutenant Evans. Agent Walker.

  Gathering her wrap around her, she went up the steps to the party alone.

  She was getting away. He had to stop her. Now.

  Marcus blinked, disoriented.

  They were back at the hotel. It was late, and the ambassador was going to bed.

  But he cleared his throat and said politely, Maam, can I talk to you a minute?

  Samantha Barnes turned in the doorway of her sitting room, an expression of faint surprise on her face. Marcus figured she was searching for a nice way to tell him to buzz off.

  Beside the ambassador, Walker scowled.

  But Samantha, after that one, brief moment of hesitation, smiled at Marcus warmly andOh, wow. She had these deep, amazing dimples. Like a Kewpie doll.

  Of course, she said. Would you like a cup of coffee?

  Yes, maam. Thank you.

  Walker looked ready to spit nails. Marcus gave him a smug lookyeah, youre not invitedas he sauntered past him and into the ambassadors private rooms.

  Shed been living at the hotel for a little over a week, and except for some sheet music on the piano and the papers stacked everywhere, Marcus had seen sailors bunks with more personality. There were none of the girlie touches his sister scattered around. No shoes kicked off under a chair. No bright magazines on a table. No snapshots on her desk.

  Maybe the ambassador kept a photo of the dead husband in the bedroom.

  Maybe shed invite Marcus in for a look.

  Yeah, and maybe he needed to have his head examined.

  She sank onto the velvet couch, her back straight and her hands still like a good horsewomans. His family raised Thoroughbreds, so he recognized the pose. On the froufrou table in front of the couch, somebody had left her a tray with a thermal pot and a doily-lined plate of pastries and a single cup.

  The ambassador lifted the pot. How do you take your coffee?

  Thats your cup, he protested.

  Ive just come from a very long dinner. Im not hungry or thirsty or in need of caffeine. She finished pouring and offered him the coffee. Black?

  I can drink it black. But when I can get it, I take it blond and sweet. Milk, he explained in response to her startled look. Two sugars.

  She dimpled and added both before handing him the saucer. He waited politely for her to choose a pastry. When she didnt, he helped himself to two.

  For a minute, he let himself relax and enjoy the soft chair and the beautiful woman sitting opposite, her red hair glowing against her white throat and the green pillows of the couch. Enjoy the smells of coffee and perfume, and the crisp buttery pastry on his tongue. It sure beat bolting MREs in the cold water off the coast of Iraq.

  What can I do for you, Lieutenant? she asked in her husky voice.

  Oh, man. His lower body tightened. He could think of a lot of things hed like her to do for him and to him, all of them inappropriate and some of them illegal in certain states.

  But he wasnt going to screw this up by mentioning them. Waiting for her outside the embassy this evening, hed had time to figure how to play this. Enough time to realize he couldnt protect the ambassador on his own, whatever Baxter said.

  He wantedneededJimmy Robinson.

  Well, maam, you know about my squad being aboard the Stoker when it hit that mine.

  She nodded. There was a detailed article in the Post. And the AP wire service picked up a photo of youI believe it was youon the deck as one of your men was being life-flighted out.

  Hell. That explains it, Marcus said.

  Explains what?

  Why I got a bunch of phone calls from my family. I dont keep up much with the news. As a covert operative, he knew how often the media got things wrong. I couldnt figure out why my brother would call.

  Samantha Barnes arched her brows. Youre not close?

  Close? No. Two y
ears apart in age, light-years away in temperament. Marcus couldnt remember a thing before the age of ten, when the Evanses had adopted him. But it sure felt like hed spent his whole childhood trying to crawl out of the shadow cast by the shining example of the Evanses firstborn son.

  We each go our own way. He grinned. And our sister, Honey, goes a little further. She sent me a singing telegram over the wireless Internet on board. The communications officer screened it and the next thing I knew everybody on the ship was ribbing me about it.

  A singing telegram sounds harmless.

  A naked singing telegram, he said, feeling his face get hot. Some stripper in a nurses uniform.

  The ambassadors cheek indented like she was trying not to laugh. Your sister must have been worried about you.

  He shrugged. He never thought about it. It was his job to worry about Honey, not the other way around. I guess. Anyway, thats not what I wanted to talk to you about.

  Ambassador Barnes didnt try to prompt him with questions. She sat there, her hands clasped in her lap and her deep-blue eyes fixed on his face. Wow. Someone who was actually ready to let him talk in his own way and his own time.

  The thing isThat guy in the chopper picturesthe one being lifted outis my XO. Executive officer, he added, in case she didnt know the lingo.

  She nodded, still not interrupting.

  Both his legs got smashed in the explosion. Hes in Bethesda now. Id like to go see him.

  Of course, she said promptly. Tomorrow? I can arrange

  He took a deep breath. Actually, maam, I was hoping you could come with me. Toto cheer him up.

  Her eyes narrowed, but her voice was still warm and sympathetic. You think a visit from me would cheer your friend up?

  Okay, he had to be careful here. Ambassador Barnes was no dummy. The only things that were going to make Jimmy feel better were class one narcotics or a clean bill of health, and Samantha Barnes looked like she knew it.

  Marcus shrugged. It might. Anyway, it would sure make me happier.

  Her full lips curved. Her eyes were as warm as the seas off the coast of Venezuela. Then I guess Id better come.

  Looking into those blue eyes made Marcus feel very good and really bad at the same time. Because she was being nice to him, and he was lying to her.

  For her own good, he reminded himself. He couldnt leave her alone with Walker. He still didnt know if the DS agent could be trusted. The only way Marcus could guarantee Samantha Barness safety was to keep her with him. So in that sense, bringing her along would definitely make him happier.

  Happy, and guilty as hell.

  Philip looked at Samantha as if shed just suggested Do You Really Want to Hurt Me? as the high school prom theme. Whats the point of visiting some laid-up sailor if youre not even going to let me arrange for a photographer to be present?

  The point is this sailor was laid up in the service of our country. Samantha spoke gently, but she saw her secretary flush. And for some reason he wants to see me. Or maybe its just that his friend wants me to see him. In either case, his sacrifice is worth at least a little of my time.

  Your schedule is already packed.

  Her schedule was always packed. It helped to fill the general emptiness shed felt since Stan died. But for the first time in a long time, Samantha wanted to do something that wasnt on the schedule. Something unplanned. Something spontaneous.

  Philip, its August in D.C. Its stinking hot. Everyone who can afford to be anywhere else has already left the city. Surely I can take an hour or two to make a sick call.

  He raised both hands in surrender. Fine. But let me send a photographer. He could take a really nice souvenir photo for the guy.

  Samantha smiled and shook her head. If he wants a souvenir, Ill sign his cast, all right? Im not exploiting his injury.

  And if hes exploiting you?

  How would he be doing that?

  What if he wants special treatment or something?

  Hes in Bethesda, Philip. Its the national naval hospital. They treat the president. You dont get treatment more special than that.

  Not the patient. Evans. I think he wants something, Philip said.

  Maybe he did. The shocking thing was, Samantha couldnt bring herself to mind.

  Then Ill find out what it is, she said.

  Maam, are you sure youre not Philip hesitated, but Samantha knew what he wanted to say.

  Flirting with scandal?

  Risking your objectivity?

  Losing your mind?

  Possibly, she admitted. Probably. She couldnt deny she was looking forward to a sunny afternoon spent with her young, hot escort. But it wasnt as if they were sneaking away for a few hours of sweaty sex. They were visiting his wounded friend in a military hospital. Perfectly commendable. Totally innocent.

  Im fine, Philip, she assured her secretary. Assured herself. Everything is fine.

  Because anything improper between her and Lieutenant Hottie was completely out of the question.

  Wasnt it?

  Marcus knew the exact moment when the ambassador spotted him waiting by the car. She sucked in her breath. Her eyes widened. For one stupid second, he thought maybe she was actually glad to see him.

  But then she blurted, Youre not in uniform.

  Behind her, Walker smirked.

  Bite me, Marcus thought.

  He glanced down at his clean T-shirt and jeans and up into her pretty-as-a-princess face. I figured I wasnt exactly on duty today, he drawled. But I can go put on the ice cream suit if you dont want to be seen with me like this.

  Oh, no. Samantha Barness cheeks turned pink. I only meantI feel overdressed now.

  She was wearing another of those blazers that didnt do a whole lot to hide her breasts, and a skirt that revealed her amazing legs to a couple of inches above the knee.

  Overdressed? Oh, yeah. Hed like nothing better than to slip her out of that jacket. To peel her out of that skirt. To get his hands on all that white, smooth skin and

  Walker was still watching jealously from the hotel curb.

  Marcus cleared his throat. You look fine to me. He opened the door of the limo. Better get in the car. Youre a target standing here.

  Obediently, she bent to get in the back seat, and all his fantasies twitched to life.

  Walker pushed forward, rigid with irritation and importance. The ambassador shouldnt leave the hotel without a full security detail.

  Marcus raised both eyebrows, distracted from the ambassadors smooth, round rear end. Youre not coming?

  I didnt think it was necessary, Samantha said from inside the limo. Since 9/11, security at Bethesda is extremely tight.

  Tight was good, Marcus thought, the vision of her lush rear still burning the back of his eyeballs.

  Assuming you get there, Walker said darkly.

  Marcus leveled a look at him over the top of the open door. Shell get there. Hell, its not like the Rebelian Secret Service knows where shes going.

  Unless theyre watching, Walker said.

  Or you tell them, Marcus thought. Damn, da
mn, damn.

  He opened the car door wider. Fine. You want to join us?

  Walker stalked around the front of the limo. Yeah. I do.

  He got in beside the driver and slammed his door.

  Marcus lowered himself to the seat next to the ambassador and slammed his door, too.

  She waited until the limo was underway before she leaned forward and slid the privacy glass shut. Do you mind telling me what that was about?

  Well, hell. Marcus couldnt exactly explain to her that the two men charged with her protection didnt trust each other to keep her safe, now, could he?

  It will be your job to tell her, Baxter had said. After the two of you are away.

  Marcus rubbed his face with his hand. Were just pissing on trees. Marking our territory, he explained when she looked confused. Walker resents me being pulled in on his job, and I dont like him horning in on my date.

  She laughed. She had the greatest laugh, kind of throaty, very Kathleen Turner. This is hardly a date.

  Well, no, he agreed, straight-faced. Not now. Not with James and J. Edgar Hoover sitting in the front seat.

  She dimpled. The drivers name is Eric.

  Marcus liked that she knew, that she cared enough to find out the drivers name. But then she stiffened up and said, Anyway, we wouldnt be dating in any case.

  So, okay, she wasnt flinging herself at him yet. Under the circumstances, that was probably a good thing. He couldnt be distracted from the business of protecting her. And if the two of them were going to be holed up alone together for days in a safe house, sharing meals and a bathroom andOh, man. He had to lose that thought.

  But curiosity and ego drove him to ask anyway. Why not?

  She blinked. Well, ImFor starters, Im too old for you.

  How old?