by Cindi Myers
“They said they’ll have everything up in about fifteen minutes,” he said, hanging up the phone.
“That’s good,” she said. “You know, if you’d rather, there are some rooms off the lobby we could use, with tables and more room to spread out.”
“No, this is better. More private.” He unknotted his tie, then slipped off his jacket. “We can make ourselves comfortable here.” He unbuttoned his shirt cuffs and began rolling up his sleeves, and she had to look away. Something about his strong, tan forearms, lightly dusted with brown hair, was doing a number on her insides. She had to fight the urge to move over to him and finish unbuttoning his shirt.
“You take the desk,” she said. “I’ll take the bed.” She fumbled with her computer cord, her cheeks hot. “I mean, it’s where I usually work.” That hadn’t come out well, either. “I mean, on the computer.”
He chuckled, a soft, sexy sound that made more than her cheeks feel hot. “I know what you mean. The desk works fine for me.” He began to unpack his laptop while she kicked off her shoes and arranged pillows against the headboard. All she had to do was pretend the sexiest man she’d ever met wasn’t sitting a few feet away from her. It was just like in college when she’d had guys over to study.
A flashback to a particularly hot and heavy study session from her college years filled her mind and she quickly pushed it away. Okay, so maybe not just like in college.
She’d just opened the file with her notes from yesterday’s interview with American leader Andy Sprague when a knock on the door made her jump. “That’s probably our food,” Luke said. He crossed to the door and she saw that he’d removed his shoes, also.
“Let me get you some cash,” she said, starting to get up.
“It’s okay. I’ll put it on my expense account. Your tax dollars at work.” He winked—actually winked—at her. The only other person she could ever remember winking at her was her grandpa. This was definitely not a grandpa wink.
They both fell on the food like starving people, though she didn’t have any faith that a sandwich and banana were going to do much to sate the hunger that was building inside her. When the meal was reduced to crumbs, she washed her hands and returned to her computer, determined to knock out the work she needed to get done. The complete blog post would have to await the results of the day’s race, but she had plenty of other work to keep her busy.
Unfortunately, the intrigues of international bike racing couldn’t compete with her interest in the man at the desk across from her. In between paragraphs, she found her gaze drifting to him. His hair was tousled, as if he’d been running his hands through it, and he slouched in his chair, long legs stretched out in front of him, the relaxed pose so different from the imposing agent who had first confronted her. The man she had come to know still had that sexy, dangerous edge, but he’d also revealed his vulnerability, his frustration at failing to stop the man he was pursuing and his grief over his own missing brother. She felt connected to him in a way she hadn’t felt connected to anyone else in her life—ever. The knowledge both thrilled and unsettled her.
“What are you working on?”
His question startled her from her musings. Did he realize she’d been staring at him? She shifted her gaze to her computer screen. “I’m writing up an interview I did with Andy Sprague for a sidebar to accompany the feature I’m working on for Road Bike Magazine, and then I need to outline my blog post for tomorrow.” Feeling calmer, she risked meeting his gaze. “What about you?”
“I’m analyzing every sighting we’ve had of Danny—where, when, what he was wearing, what he was doing, time of day. I’m trying to spot patterns.”
“Are you having any luck so far?”
“No. He’s being careful. Too careful for someone working alone.”
She set her laptop aside and shifted toward him. “What do you mean?”
“No one can think of every possible danger. For that you need a team. Other people who can share their experience and ideas, what they’ve learned, and spot potential dangers.”
That made sense. “So you think he has people helping him?”
“Almost certainly. He has to have other people to provide supplies, transportation, shelter.”
“Are these just minions, or people he’s hired, or do you think he’s part of some organized group?”
“He could be part of a terrorist cell.”
The words were straight out of a thriller novel or a spy movie. Sure, she’d read plenty of news stories about terrorism, but she still had a hard time wrapping her mind around the idea of terrorists living, working and organizing in this country. The knowledge made her realize how important the work of people like Luke really was. She moved to the end of the bed and studied the spreadsheet he’d pulled up on the screen.
“You realize this is all highly classified and I’m breaking all kinds of rules letting you see it.” His voice was gentle, but all the same, he pressed a button to close the screen.
She could have complained that he didn’t trust her but, honestly, in his job, how could he afford to trust anyone? And she had to give him points for telling her as much as he had. Better to make light of the moment. “I promise I’m not an enemy spy trying to seduce all your secrets from you,” she said.
“Too bad.” He moved his chair so that he was positioned directly in front of her, his knees bumping the end of the bed. “If anyone could distract me from my duty, it might be you.”
“Could I distract you like this?” Tentatively—just in case she’d read him wrong—she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. His arm came around her, steadying her and deepening the kiss. The sweep of his tongue across her lips made every nerve tingle and glow, and all thoughts of caution deserted her. All she wanted was for this kiss, this moment, to never end.
He was the first to pull away, although reluctantly. He traced the line of her jaw with one finger, his gaze searching. “There’s nothing I’d like better than to turn off my phone and take you to bed right now,” he said. “But I think we both know that wouldn’t be a good idea.”
“Because my brother is a suspect in your case.” Saying the words made her feel cold. She withdrew her arms from around him and hugged herself.
“Not a suspect. But someone who might have important information that could help us.”
“So you can’t afford to get involved with me.”
He caressed her shoulder. “If I was anyone else, in any other job, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. We’d already be making love. But I’m not someone else, and, because of my job, I have to think about not only the circumstances that surround us now, but how those circumstances are going to look in a court case later. A defense attorney might be able to use an affair between us to discredit my testimony or your brother’s, or to distract the jury from the important issues of the case. I’ve seen it happen before.”
She nodded. How many times had she seen political campaigns derailed by personal issues or sexy stories trump real news in the headlines? “You’re right.” She sat back but couldn’t resist giving him her most seductive smile. “But I’m warning you right now, when this case is over...”
“I’ll be putting in for a long vacation. With you.”
She laughed, though the heat of unrequited lust still simmered between them. Checking the clock, she was surprised to see it was almost two. “The race coverage started at one thirty,” she said. “I try to catch as much of it as I can.”
He handed her the remote. “Mind if I watch it with you?”
“Of course not.” She switched on the TV and scooted back on the bed.
He moved his chair around to face the screen. “What is it you like about bike racing?” he asked. “I admit, I don’t know much about it.”
“I didn’t, either, until Scott started racing. I got to know other riders and sa
w how hard they all worked and trained. The races themselves are grueling for the racers, but exciting, too. They’re fast paced and there’s a lot of strategy that goes into the races. It’s both an individual and a team event. One racer may win a stage or a race, but he relies on his team to help him.”
“Your brother must miss it.”
“He does. He was very good at racing. When he had to leave it, he lost his focus. And he’d been in racing so long all his friends were there. I think he misses being part of that family. I’ve tried to encourage him to find new interests and make new friends, but he says it’s too hard.”
The screen switched to a close-up shot of the racers, straining to make the grueling climb up a mountain pass. The camera panned over the crowds of fans who lined the course, some holding signs, others waving flags. Luke leaned forward, his gaze focused on the television.
Morgan found herself watching him instead of the racers. “You’re doing it now, aren’t you?” she asked.
“Doing what?” His gaze remained fixed on the screen.
“You’re looking for people you recognize from the other races.”
“I’m looking for someone I recognize who is acting suspicious or seems out of place,” he said. “Other members of the team are along the course. They’re looking for any of our suspects, too.”
“What happens if they spot someone?”
“They request that he—so far all our suspects are male—will come in to answer some questions.”
“What if the person refuses to come?”
“Almost everyone does. We’re good at giving the impression we won’t take no for an answer.”
“Yes. You definitely gave me that impression.”
The television switched to a commercial and he turned to her, his expression grave. “I’m not in the habit of using my position to pick up women,” he said. “I want you to know that.”
“Then why did you follow me that day?”
“Partly because I was attracted to you, and I wanted to know more about you.”
“And the other part?”
“I had a feeling. Call it instinct, or a hunch. After a while in this job, you learn not to ignore those feelings.”
“Are you sure you aren’t trying to justify your actions? Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”
“Maybe I am. But finding you also led me to your brother, and I still think he could be an important link in this case.”
Scott again. Would he always be a barrier between them? “Luke, no! I realize Scott has had his share of problems, and you probably think because he’s lonely and drifting he’d be susceptible to people who pretend to be his friends, but Scott isn’t that naive. He wouldn’t be taken in by terrorists, and he wouldn’t hurt innocent people.” Her voice broke, and she turned away, not wanting him to see the tears that burned in her eyes.
“Hey.” He moved from the chair to the bed and pulled her close. “I’m not accusing Scott of being a terrorist,” he said. “But I believe he knows more than he’s been able to tell us. More about Danny. He could be the one who helps us break this case.”
“I hope he is,” she said. “I want you to capture the people responsible for all these deaths, but I also want Scott to have something positive in his life. I want him to see that his diagnosis and having to give up racing don’t have to be the end.”
“Then I hope I can help him see that.”
He kissed her temple, a gesture of tenderness and comfort. But she needed more from him. Not everything she wanted—at least not now—but a reminder of what might one day be between them.
She turned toward him, her lips angled to his. “Kiss me,” she whispered.
She closed her eyes and surrendered to the storm of emotions his kiss stirred within her—passion and tenderness, wonder and worry. She wanted her feelings for this man—the connection she felt for him—to be real. But could she trust herself to love when so many other things battled for her attention? Was she drawn to Luke because he offered respite from the storm or because he was the person she was meant to be with, someone who was proving already that he would stand by her for better or worse?
A loud ringing jolted them apart. “My phone,” he said, scowling toward the sound, which came from the jacket he’d hung on the back of the desk chair.
“You’d better answer it.” She sat back against the headboard, trying to control her breathing and slow her racing heart.
He snagged the jacket from the chair, then extracted the phone. “Agent Renfro,” he answered, his voice crisp and professional.
He listened for a moment, the twin lines between his eyes deepening. Then he hung up, stood and began shrugging into his jacket.
“What is it?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”
“We need to go,” he said, and began to shut down his computer. “That was the hospital. Your brother has disappeared.”
Chapter Nine
Luke reached the hospital before Morgan and was grateful for a few moments to take stock of the situation before she arrived. Travis met him at the ninth-floor elevator. “What happened?” Luke asked.
“Another patient had what is politely known as an episode. He attacked a nurse and the officer assigned to guard Scott went to her aid. When he came back, Westfield’s room was empty.”
“Have you checked security footage?”
“Gus is reviewing it now. Did you notify the sister?”
“She’s on her way.” He and Morgan had agreed that coming in separate vehicles was less likely to arouse suspicion.
He followed Luke to Scott’s hospital room. They had to squeeze past Carlos, who was righting an overturned cart, gathering up scattered syringes and meds. “You missed all the excitement, Agent Renfro,” he said.
“What set off the patient?” Luke asked.
Carlos shrugged. “Who knows? They told me when I was assigned to this floor that I’d like the variety. I didn’t realize they meant we can never really predict what these patients are going to do.”
In Scott’s room, the bedcovers were thrown back, restraints were discarded on the floor and IV tubing dangled from a stand by the bed. “Was he still unconscious when the officer left him?” Luke asked.
“He said Westfield was a little restless, as if he was starting to come out of sedation.”
“The sedative his doctor ordered was a mild one.” Nurse Adkins stood in the doorway of the room. She had a stain on the front of her scrubs and a strand of hair had come loose from the bun at the back of her head. She looked much less intimidating than she had before.
“How long should that have put him out?” Luke asked.
“It’s difficult to say,” she said. “But these patients sometimes develop tolerances. Adrenaline, other drugs in their system and the way their bodies process medication can result in an increased or decreased effect in their systems.”
“So Scott could have been coming out of sedation already?” Luke asked.
“Yes.”
“Have any strangers been on the floor in the last hour?” Travis asked. “Did the temp service send over a new orderly to replace Ricky?”
She shook her head. “No one’s been allowed on the floor.”
“Someone could have slipped in while everyone was distracted by the other patient,” Travis said.
The sound of someone running in the hallway made them all look toward the door. Morgan burst into the room, breathless. “Have you found him?” she asked. “Do you know what happened?”
“We haven’t determined that yet.” Luke touched her shoulder lightly, then moved away. He needed to distract her from her panic, get her focused on something active and useful. “Tell me if you notice anything missing from this room.”
She scanned the bedside table, then walked to the small wooden ca
binet on the wall and opened it. “His clothes are gone,” she said. “The tennis shoes and T-shirt and pants he was wearing when they brought him here.”
“His medication is missing, also.” Nurse Adkins pointed to the top shelf of the closet. “The prescription was filled in anticipation of his release.”
“So if someone did kidnap him, they took the time to get him dressed and to gather up his meds?” Travis shook his head. “I don’t see how there was time for that.”
“Let’s check the surveillance tapes.” Luke led the way to the elevator, followed by Travis and Morgan.
“Ms. Westfield, you need to stay here and let us handle this,” Travis said.
“Let her come with us,” Luke said. “Maybe she’ll notice something we don’t.”
“Luke.” The one word held a warning. Next would come the lecture about not letting personal relationships interfere with the job.
“She’s his sister,” Luke said. “She might be able to help.”
Travis pressed his lips together but made no further objection. The three of them boarded the elevator and Luke pressed the button for the first floor. He glanced up at the camera. Its lens was uncovered, the green light on the front indicating they were being recorded. What had happened to Scott Westfield? Even if Danny had dared to return, how would he have gotten a reluctant, half-conscious or completely unconscious man out of here without someone noticing?
They found Cramer and Gus in the security office. Gus glanced up when they entered. “We’ve got him on tape,” he said.
They crowded around the desk and Cramer worked the controls until an image of Scott filled the screen. Dressed in sweatpants and shirt, he carried a plastic bag and opened the door to the stairwell. “His other clothes were in a bag like that,” Morgan said.
Cramer manipulated the controls, moving from camera to camera, following Scott down the stairs. He slipped into a bathroom on the third floor and changed into jeans and a T-shirt, then continued down the stairs and out a side door. The last image showed him at the edge of the parking lot, headed toward the street.