by Diana Miller
Harry eyed Paul appraisingly. “It would have done that to me three and a half hours ago. I always thought you knew more about computers than you let on.”
“Pretending ignorance gets me out of jobs I’d rather not do. Too bad I’m not pretending now.” Paul stretched his arms over his head. “God, I wish Ryan were here. When it comes to computers, the man’s a genius.” He grabbed the phone. “Much as I hate it, I need to ask him for help. Although he’ll never let me forget it.”
“I haven’t got a blasted thing on Taurino yet, even though I started working right after you called,” Jack said before Paul asked a question. “Justice still has the files and won’t return them without the AG’s approval.”
“Sometimes you’d think we work for different countries instead of just different government agencies.”
“Sometimes things would be easier if we were dealing with different countries.” Jack cleared his throat. “Look, I apologize if I was out of line about Dr. Rodgers. I’m just trying to cover all the bases.”
“I know. I actually called about something else.” Paul explained the problem with the fence. “I need to figure out who did it, but first I need Ryan’s help to fix it. Could you have him call me?”
“Ryan isn’t there?” Jack asked. “Where the hell is he?”
“How should I know? You guys ordered him to leave.”
“Ordered him to leave?” Jack let out an exasperated breath. “Jesus. No one issued any order. Ryan obviously used that as an excuse to leave. After all the trouble we went to replacing him in Texas.”
The back of Paul’s neck prickled. “I thought Ryan finished early in Texas, and that’s why Martin asked him to help me out.”
Jack snorted. “Wrong. Ryan called us the day after you were shot at on the chairlift. He wanted to know all about it and what we were doing to protect you.”
“How did he know about the shooting?”
“Said he read about it online and was afraid you might be involved. Since he knew you were in Keystone.”
“Uh-huh.” Paul’s brain raced in a direction he didn’t like, the prickling making its way down his spine.
“He demanded to be reassigned to protect you. I said no way, you were safe, and we needed him in Texas. So he talked to Martin. Next thing I knew, Ryan was on his way to Colorado, and Tim Atkins was scrambling to replace him in Texas and pissed as hell at me.”
“Ryan never made it to the Rockies.”
“I know. He would have, except he got tired driving and stopped to nap. The house blew before he got there, so he volunteered to handle delivery service to the island and said he’d stick around to help protect you. When did he leave?”
“A couple days ago.”
“Knowing Ryan, he headed somewhere to meet a woman. I guess he has the right since he wasn’t officially assigned guard duty there, which makes him technically on vacation.”
“Uh-huh.” Paul realized he’d picked up a pen and was tapping it at woodpecker speed. He was surprised Jack hadn’t mentioned the background noise. He dropped the pen.
“When he resurfaces, have him call me. We need him back in Texas, since he’s clearly satisfied his concern about his good friend Paul.”
“Will do.” Paul’s chest felt hollow. He forced his focus to his immediate problem. “In the meantime, I need computer help.”
“Not from me,” Jack said. “I’m sure I can find someone with the appropriate clearances and expertise. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
* * * *
Jillian looked up from her book as Paul walked into the living room. His darkly stubbled face and forbidding expression made clear how he’d earned his nickname.
Jillian glanced at the sleek black lacquer clock atop an ornately carved wood chest Tony had identified as 16th century Italian. After two. “How’s the security system?”
“Fixed.” He plopped down on the sofa beside her and rubbed his bloodshot eyes. “It was a complicated computer problem, and I needed outside help. I actually got it from Tony, who sends his best from Kyoto.”
“Are you hungry?”
He shook his head. “I grabbed a Snickers bar.” He closed his eyes.
He’d obviously had a stressful day. Jillian walked around behind him so she could massage his shoulders. They felt like granite. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m just tired. That feels terrific.” He dropped his chin onto his chest.
“You’re lying.”
“What?” Paul’s head jerked up.
“Relax your neck.” Jillian pushed his head back to his chest and moved her fingers to his neck muscles. “You’re upset, not just tired. What happened?” Her fingers stopped. “Have they found us?”
“It’s not that.”
She resumed massaging. “What is it?”
He was silent for so long she didn’t think he was going to answer. Then he raised his head, grabbed her hands, and removed them from his shoulders. “Sit down.”
Jillian moved around the sofa and sat beside him.
“The computer had been reprogrammed to shut down the security system at four forty-seven every morning for a week, starting yesterday,” Paul said. “An hour later, the system rearms. Whoever did it was clever, since he also reprogrammed the computer so it doesn’t show that the system’s off. It was a fluke that Harry discovered it.”
Jillian’s blood chilled. “Someone’s planning to break in during that hour?”
“Presumably. The expert who helped me fix it said our system’s virtually impossible to tap into from the outside. Most likely someone on the island reprogrammed it.” Paul shifted his gaze to one of the arched windows. “The only recent visitor with the necessary expertise is Ryan.”
Jillian blinked. “Why would Ryan do something like that?”
“The same reason that after Ryan found out about the shooting, he demanded to be sent to Colorado to protect me, even pulled strings so he was.” Paul was still staring out the window. “Although he told me it was the government’s idea to send him.”
“Maybe he didn’t want you to know he went to so much trouble.”
“The same reason that a day after Ryan learned our location in Colorado, our safe house blew up. An explosion he missed because he claims he took a nap, but Ryan never naps on principle. Hell, maybe he was at the house, but too busy setting explosives to stop in and say hi.”
“Maybe—”
“The same reason Ryan came to the island to help protect me, but left after a few days.”
“He had another assignment,” Jillian said.
“Unfortunately, the bureau doesn’t have any idea what that assignment is.” Paul finally met her eyes. “The only logical conclusion is that Ryan’s setting me up.”
“He wouldn’t do that. There must be another explanation.”
“Jack assumes he went somewhere to meet a woman. But Jack doesn’t know all the lies Ryan’s told me.”
“Besides, Jack suspects me.” Jillian moved closer and rested her hand on Paul’s thigh. It was as rigid as a tree trunk. “Maybe Ryan left to give us some time alone.”
“Much as I’d like to believe that, it makes sense that Ryan’s the leak. He’s been my best friend for years, so no one questioned anything he did.” Paul shook his head. “Ryan spent so much time alone with the computer he could have programmed it to do almost anything.”
“Why would he betray you?”
“For the money, of course.” His head fell back on the top of the sofa. “It’s always surprised me that Ryan stuck with the government when he would have made a hell of a lot more working in the private sector.”
“He said he loves his job.”
“He also loves money,” Paul said. “Maybe he figured out a way to supplement his government salary tax-free. This might not be the first time he did this, might not even be the first with me.”
Paul lifted his head off the sofa back and met Jillian’s eyes.
“We assumed someone hacked into the bureau’s ultra-secure computer system, and that’s how they found out I was the government’s confidential informant and traced me to D.C. But Ryan knew I’d been involved because I told him. He even knew I’d be in D.C. that day to meet with Justice since we’d planned to have dinner afterwards.”
“What about Jack?”
This time her comment about Jack drew a faint smile. “I know you’d love to pin this on Jack, but it isn’t him. He doesn’t know the island’s location, and he can’t have reprogrammed the computer. He also knew I was in Newfoundland and could have handed me over then.” Paul’s lips twisted. “Ryan didn’t know where I was until I went to Keystone. He only knew then because I’d approached him about coming with me.”
He stabbed his fingers through his hair. “Damn it, Ryan knows this island better than almost anyone.”
Jillian’s heart thudded. She hadn’t considered that aspect. “Even where it’s located?”
“Exactly where it’s located.” Paul squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry. I still know more about the island than Ryan does.” He paused. “Since my grandmother owns it.”
Sure she’d misheard, Jillian stared at him. “Your grandmother owns the house we’re staying in? And the rest of the island?”
A dull red flush stained Paul’s cheekbones, and he released her hand. “Decadent, isn’t it? My great-grandfather built it as a vacation place, and my grandfather eventually inherited it. I visited my grandparents here several times as a kid. When my grandfather died, he left it to my grandmother, but she didn’t feel like coming here anymore. She didn’t want to sell it, but she couldn’t leave it empty. So she approached Martin Worthington about letting the government use it.”
“Is he the Martin who’s in charge of your current mission?” Jillian asked.
Paul nodded. “Our families have been friends forever. The government hired some caretaker guards, beefed up security, and occasionally uses it as a stopover or safe house. I spent two months here recuperating and hiding out after I got shot in South America since the government was afraid those guys might try to finish the job. That’s when Ryan was here, to visit me.”
“Won’t your enemies look for you here? Since it’s your grandmother’s?”
Paul shook his head. “Thanks to sloppy record keeping and probably a few well-placed bribes, the official records are stuck in the nineteenth century, before my family bought it. This place is also so secret it isn’t in any government records. Only a few officials know it exists and even fewer know where it is or who owns it. Grandmother demanded the secrecy. She said that if anyone in the family wants to take it over some day, she doesn’t want them being hurt or killed by someone who thinks it’s being used by the U.S. government.”
Jillian digested that for a moment then asked the obvious next question. “What did your great-grandfather do to be able to afford an island?”
Paul looked away. “He founded what’s now Harrison Electric. My dad’s the current CEO.”
Jillian’s jaw dropped. “Your family owns Harrison Electric?” It was the largest appliance manufacturer in the world.
“Along with millions of other shareholders.”
“I guess Ryan wasn’t lying when he said your family sold appliances. Why didn’t you mention this before?” That you came from a family rich enough to own an island seemed important, at least to someone who’d grown up on the opposite end of the economic spectrum.
Paul looked a little sheepish. “I didn’t want you to think I was some rich guy playing spy games and not capable of keeping you safe. Besides, it’s irrelevant to how I live my life. I only told you now to reassure you I know more about the island than Ryan.”
It was also irrelevant since they’d never be together once they got back to the real world, where men as rich as Paul were even more out of her league than government agents. “How can you do undercover work when you’re from such a prominent family?” Jillian asked to distract herself from that depressing reality.
“Having money actually makes it easier,” he said. “For a long time people assumed I didn’t have a job and spent all my time taking long, adventurous vacations that kept me in communicado, things like climbing Everest and hiking the Amazon. Now my dad and brother pretend I work for Harrison’s international division, doing research and fact-finding missions and handling confidential negotiations.” He shrugged. “It also helps that doing undercover work for the government is unimaginable to most people in my socio-economic bracket. Government service is fine, but only as long as it’s safe, prestigious, and allows you to continue enjoying a high standard of living.”
He got to his feet, pulling her up with him. “I’ve spent enough time worrying about this. It’s time for you to practice your shooting.”
* * * *
Although Paul never mentioned Ryan during the rest of the afternoon and evening, Jillian knew he was upset. She understood completely. God knows, she hated the thought someone she liked as much as Ryan might have betrayed Paul, and she’d only known him a few days. The hurt had to be devastating for Paul, who’d considered Ryan his best friend for nearly twenty years.
By dinner, Paul had given up trying to hide his feeling. He barely ate anything and limited his conversation to monosyllabic answers to Jillian’s questions. He drank most of the bottle of Burgundy he’d brought up from the wine cellar.
After dinner, Jillian convinced him to take her bed, where she concentrated on making him forget Ryan for a little while. It worked—between her efforts and Paul’s emotional state, he made love to her with an intensity that overwhelmed her. His body was dripping sweat when he finally collapsed on top of her.
Then she ruined everything by blurting out that she loved him.
Jillian clamped her lips together an instant too late. So much for her plan to keep her feelings under control. But she’d deal with her own feelings later. Now her concern was for Paul, who at her words had gone rigid as a day-old corpse. As every ER doctor knows, first you stop the bleeding, which, in this case, was the spurt of guilt her confession had no doubt triggered in him. “Forget I said that. I know you don’t feel the same way, and that’s okay. I don’t expect it. I’m—”
He pressed his fingers over her lips. “We’ve had a rather unique relationship,” he said quietly. “One that makes it easy to confuse feelings.”
“Confuse feelings?”
“To mistake gratitude or dependence for something else.”
Jillian shoved him off her and rolled up on one elbow beside him. “You think I’m so naïve I can’t tell the difference between dependence and love? Or weak-willed enough to have succumbed to some hostage-captor scenario?”
“I don’t want you to say something you’ll regret later, when this is all over.” Paul stroked her hair in a gesture no doubt intended to be soothing.
It wasn’t. She shoved his hand away. “I’m perfectly aware things between us will end the instant we get off the island, and that’s fine with me. I like to keep my life under control. Having a relationship with someone who disappears for months would drive me crazy.”
“I wish I were different and could quit doing what I do,” Paul said. “I don’t even know why I need it. Not for the excitement or adventure, at least not anymore.”
He propped himself up so his face was level with hers. “Ryan claims it’s my way of atoning for being born so damn rich. Maybe he’s right. I thought I could give it up when I got married, but I was wrong. To be honest, being married also made me realize that I can’t truly love anyone. I think the same thing that lets me shut down my feelings and do some of the horrible shit my work requires also destroyed my ability to love.” His tone was resigned and more than a little sad.
He stroked her hair again. “I can’t give you what you deserve. Even though I care about you and don’t want to hurt you.”
“For God’s sake, you aren’t going to hurt me.” But she said it mildly; his unmi
stakable concern had diffused her temper.
He looked skeptical.
“Okay, maybe I’ll hurt a little,” she said. “I’ll survive. I’m tough.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Now I’m through talking about this.” She reached out a finger and traced random patterns in his dark chest hairs. “What I’d like to do is practice my shooting.” She trailed her finger down his torso, stopping low on his abdomen. “Literally or metaphorically. Your choice.”
His lips curved into a slow smile. “Like I said, I’ve always appreciated metaphors.”
* * * *
Ryan leaned against a rock and sipped his wine, savoring the rich fruit with hints of woodiness. This Burgundy was the best of the lot, only fitting since tonight he was celebrating how well everything was going. Even nature seemed to be in a celebratory mood—the half-moon and thousands of flickering stars overhead looked like a damn fireworks display.
Everything was falling into place. Paul’s discovery about the security system added another wrinkle, but he could handle it. That Paul knew he hadn’t left on an assignment was no big deal, either. Paul knew him well enough that he probably figured Jack was right, and he’d gone to meet a woman.
Ryan took another appreciative sip of wine then shook his head. Jesus, Paul was going to go ballistic when he learned who’d betrayed him. Rich people always set such stock in loyalty and old friendships, like duplicity by a friend was the eighth deadly sin or something. That was because rich people didn’t understand that money could motivate someone to do all sorts of shitty things, even to a friend. That some things weren’t personal.
Ryan’s cell phone buzzed. Right on schedule. Very soon, Paul would learn the truth.
Provided he lived that long.
Chapter 24
Paul was pacing between the bedroom window and door, dressed only in his briefs, his hands clasped behind his back. Jillian had spent the past hour watching him through half-closed eyes from bed. The men who’d hauled her away from Denver a lifetime ago said his pacing wasn’t a good sign. She believed it. He was like a caged tiger, growing fiercer and tenser each time he realized his physical boundaries and had to turn around. She’d been afraid if she spoke, moved, even breathed too loudly, he’d strike in her direction.