Hidden Hearts

by Susan Kearney

He raced to the window and fear pierced him. The crane operator had lost control and a deadly I-beam had swung into the building. Roarke saw a body fall four stories off the roof. He didn’t stay to see more details.

  To hell with his license. Alexandra needed him. He just prayed she’d still be alive when he finally got to her.

  Roarke ran full out across the street without bothering to reholster his weapon. While he suspected the sniper’s shot had caused the crane accident, he couldn’t be sure there wouldn’t be another of Top Dog’s men on the site, a foe who could reach Alexandra before he could.

  Roarke dodged traffic, pedestrians and a hot-dog cart. He rushed past the gate. Heard sirens in the distance. He ignored screams from passersby, the choking dust, and the shouting confusion of construction workers. It brought back vivid memories of the bombing of an American embassy and another woman’s death.

  Alexandra and Carleton had been heading to the roof. Was she up there when the I-beam crashed? He shuddered at the thought of hundreds of pounds of falling steel slicing through flesh, flattening the scaffolding, rocketing like a bullet between floors. Would he recognize their bodies if he found them? Ruthlessly, he shoved the grisly thought away. He was not going to lose Alexandra or his friend.

  Roarke skidded to a halt at the base of the building and tilted his head back to look up. The building reminded him of one he’d built out of Popsicle sticks as a kid. Except the sticks were steel I-beams and looked ready to fall.

  The elevator cage looked stuck between two floors and dangled at an angle by one cable. Roarke squinted through the dust, trying to make out Alexandra’s blue dress or Carleton’s khaki slacks. He thought he might have caught a glimpse of them, but he couldn’t be sure.

  One thing he did know. They were up there somewhere and he was damn well going to find them.

  Roarke flagged over a loader and directed the man to lower the bucket. He climbed in and shouted over the engine. “Get me up there.”

  The loader operator nodded and boosted Roarke to the second story. From there, he was on his own. The damage on this level was bad, and he knew the farther he climbed, the worse the structural damage would be.

  Roarke gritted his teeth, found a ladder and climbed to the third story. Three people were trapped inside the elevator. Was Alexandra one of them? His heart pumped with fear. A three-story fall would likely kill everyone trapped inside.

  From here he could see the elevator cage clearly. Carleton was sitting slumped on the floor. And Alexandra! She was there, too, with another woman, but he felt no relief. While Alexandra was still alive, she was in too much danger for him to feel anything but more panic.

  “Alexandra! You hurt?”

  “Bumps and bruises. But Carleton took a knock on his head. He’s breathing and conscious but too dizzy to stand. You have to get us out of here before the cable breaks.”

  The machines below couldn’t reach this high. From here, he could see that the crane operator had been shot by the sniper, and even if Roarke could climb down and then up into the crane’s cab before the elevator fell, Roarke didn’t know how to operate the machine.

  “Any suggestions?” Roarke asked, knowing she was much more familiar with the building than he.

  “Can you get to the top floor?” she asked.

  “Maybe, why?”

  “There’s extra line up there we use for securing the scaffolding. If you could toss us a rope, we could climb down.”

  Leave it to Alexandra to figure out a way to rescue herself. He just hoped her idea would work. Roarke edged away from the elevator, placing his feet carefully before looking up.

  Climbing to the next story wouldn’t be easy. He considered going back for the ladder, pulling it up behind him and using it again when he spied a huge hole in the roof and a pile of supplies under it. Could the lines Alexandra had spoken about have fallen through the broken area?

  This time, luck was with him. He found the rope with no trouble, heaved it over his shoulder and hurried back to the building’s edge. “I’ve got it.”

  “Good, the wind’s picking up,” Alexandra’s voice remained firm, but he could still hear her nervousness. When he looked out to the dangling elevator, he could see more reason for concern. The damaged cage swayed back and forth. The other woman huddled in the corner, clinging to Carleton with one hand and the cage with the other. If the cage collided with the building, the cable might snap from the force.

  Roarke uncoiled the rope. “Alexandra, you’re going to have to open the cage door so you can catch the rope.”

  “Okay.” She slid the door open and he could see all three people much better. The two women had strapped Carleton to the cage with his belt. Alexandra now held onto the cage with one hand and onto the other woman with the other. She leaned out of the swaying cage, depending on the other woman to keep her from falling.

  As the cage careened in his direction, Roarke tossed the rope. The cage turned, the opening no longer facing him and Alexandra missed.

  “Steady,” she told him. “We’ll get it next time.”

  Roarke reeled the rope back in and readied himself for another try. He’d been in some tight spots in his life, but he’d never been so nervous.

  He tried again. This time the cage door faced the right direction.

  But his throw was too low.

  “Almost,” Alexandra told him as he grimly reeled in the line again.

  The next time, his throw was perfect. Alexandra grabbed the rope and the people below let out a cheer. Roarke hadn’t even realized they had an audience.

  “Tie off your end to the cage and I’ll drop my end to the ground,” he instructed Alexandra.

  She worked quickly and Roarke tossed the line down to one of the construction crew.

  “Don’t hold it too tight or it’ll put too much pressure on the cable,” Alexandra told them.

  And then while Roarke held his breath, Alexandra insisted that the other woman climb down first.

  The woman was frightened but determined. Roarke told her how to wrap the rope around her legs, so she wouldn’t have to hold all her weight with her arms. Right after the woman started down the line, Carleton insisted that Alexandra go next. Roarke’s friend had revived enough from the bump on his head to climb down by himself.

  As Alexandra slid down the line, Roarke climbed down from the third to the second story, staying level with her, shouting encouragement. When he reached the second story, the loader operator lifted up his bucket for Roarke. He climbed in and rode the bucket to the ground. Heart battering his ribs, pulse pounding, he shoved his way into the crowd to gather Alexandra safely into his arms.

  “Hold me tight,” he whispered in her ear.

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “You’re shaking.”

  Roarke pulled her away from underneath the dangling elevator cage. “I’ve never been so frightened in my life. If something had happened to you…” He paused as his throat clogged with emotion, “I never would have forgiven myself.”

  Carleton joined them a moment later. Clearly he’d overheard Roarke’s words and grinned. Roarke clapped him on the shoulder without releasing Alexandra from his embrace. “You okay?”

  Carleton nodded. “Good thing I have a hard head.”

  Roarke frowned. “Sorry. My fault.”

  Alexandra pulled back from Roarke’s embrace, puzzlement in her eyes. “You can’t blame yourself for an accident.”

  “You don’t understand. The I-beam dropped when the crane operator was shot by a sniper from across the street.”

  “Sniper? Shots?” Obviously stunned, Alexandra rocked back on her heels. “I didn’t hear any shots. I thought he’d had a heart attack or something. That poor man!”

  She peered over Roarke’s shoulder at the dead crane operator, her face reflecting her sadness, her shoulders shuddering. Construction workers hadn’t moved the body, leaving the crime scene untouched for the homicide detectives. Another body lay unmoving on the ground, the neck twisted. A
lexandra looked into Roarke’s face and must have read some of the guilt he felt. “It’s not your fault.”

  “If I’d moved more quickly, the sniper wouldn’t have made that shot.”

  “What do you mean?”

  As he explained what had happened, he escorted Alexandra to their vehicle. Staying to answer the police questions would just make protecting her all the harder. With the Agency’s close ties to local law enforcement, he needed to escort her away quickly before the police detained them. Carleton volunteered to stay behind and answer the police’s questions.

  Roarke and Alexandra stopped in the construction trailer’s office and grabbed the extra set of documents still hidden inside the cardboard blueprint tube, because Roarke had no intention of coming back to this construction site again—not until Top Dog was dead or behind bars. He didn’t care if they blew up the entire building—he wouldn’t allow Alexandra to risk her life again.

  Once they reached their parked car, they overheard Carleton talking to a foreman, claiming he didn’t need medical treatment, and that the bang on his head had just stunned him but done no permanent damage.

  Roarke drove out the gate without problems. Beside him, Alexandra took tissues and the special cream he’d bought and removed the dark makeup from her skin. One box of tissues later and she looked normal. He had her carefully gather all the tissues and the wig into a trash bag, and then they dumped it in a city waste receptacle.

  Alexandra hadn’t said much since he’d told her what he’d found across the street. He suspected while she might be bothered by the fact that he’d been forced to kill a man, she was more upset over the innocent crane operator’s death. To her credit, she hadn’t said one word about the destruction of her building, a catastrophe that would put her weeks behind schedule.

  “I can’t let anyone else die,” she murmured. “We have to put a stop to this. That crane operator probably had a wife, kids. The construction worker who fell couldn’t be older than twenty-five.”

  “I’m sorry.” He could tell from her tone as well as from her demeanor that she was torn. She didn’t slouch in defeat or lower her head, but stared straight ahead. He could tell she’d come to some kind of decision.

  “Being sorry won’t bring them back. It won’t put food on the table. It was one thing to take risks when it was my life, but when perfectly innocent people are shot…” She let out a long, low sigh. “I’ve had enough, Roarke. Take me home.”

  “Home?”

  “To my apartment.”

  “That’s not a good idea. The Agency had men watching your construction site. They’ll have men watching your apartment, too.”

  “That’s what I’m counting on.” She must have seen the doubt on his face. “You can drop me off on the corner and keep going. This is my problem and I’m going to solve it my own way.”

  “You think I’d abandon you?” That she would even consider the possibility of him leaving her to face this alone made him realize that although they’d shared an incredible night of lovemaking, too many important things hadn’t been said between them.

  “You have too much integrity to quit on me, so I’m firing you.”

  “You can’t fire me.”

  “I just did.”

  “I told you before. You can’t fire me because you didn’t hire me. And until I hear from your brother, I’m sticking to you like glue.”

  “I mean it, I’m not going to have one more person die over those papers.”

  At least she hadn’t tried to fire him again. Instead she’d used a different negotiating tactic, coming at the problem from another angle. While he admired her determination to take matters into her own hands, he was tired of tamping down his temper. He was more than annoyed that she wanted to be rid of him, and furious that she thought she could face down these men on her own.

  But Roarke was not a man to allow his temper to show—unless it suited his purpose. Now was not the time. Alexandra had just been through a harrowing experience. Most women would have wanted more protection. Yet Alexandra wanted him to just up and disappear.

  And then there was the guilt factor. One he recognized all too well. Although she hadn’t pulled the trigger, she felt guilty over the crane operator’s death.

  But getting herself killed wouldn’t bring the man back to life. However, even if she wanted to sacrifice herself, Roarke wouldn’t allow it. He wouldn’t let any client make such an irrational decision, and he especially wouldn’t let a woman he cared about as much as he did Alexandra just walk into a trap and give herself up to the enemy.

  As these thoughts raced through his mind, he knew he’d resort to force if it meant keeping her safe. He’d much prefer to reason with her, convince her to do things his way. Past experience with Alexandra had taught him she could be reasonable, so Roarke reined in his temper and parked downtown across the street from Jacksonville’s Riverwalk.

  A boardwalk dotted with shops and restaurants lined the St. John’s River. Tourists and natives strolled along, eating ice cream, pushing baby strollers and wandering through the stores.

  “What are we doing here?” Alexandra asked him, not even bothering to get out of the car.

  “Taking a moment—”

  “I don’t need a moment. I’ve decided—”

  “You?”

  “They’re my papers. It’s my life at risk. My building that was ruined. My crane operator that’s dead. It’s my decision.” She took a deep breath and let the air out in a rush. “I know you want to take over. That it’s your nature to take over—but this is my problem.”

  “ Our problem,” he corrected her, his tone gentle, but she must have heard his steely resolve and a hint of his anger, because she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, her eyes defiant, ready to do battle.

  “We’ve done things your way. And it hasn’t worked out.”

  “You’re still alive,” he pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest and reminding himself that she was upset. She was only trying to dump him because she felt guilty. Her decision had nothing to do with him personally. So why did he feel so bruised? Why did he feel as if he’d let her down?

  “I’m alive, but I can’t work. I can’t visit my friends or see my family. I can’t go back to my apartment, and we just ran away from the police back there.”

  “So what do you want to do?”

  “Give the bad guys what they want.”

  “You want me to hand you over to them?”

  “I don’t want you to do anything.” She drew herself up straight. “ I’m going to give them the papers that my brother sent me.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ever since Alexandra had seen the crane operator’s lifeless body and the fear in the eyes of the inspectors who could have died, too, she’d known she couldn’t let the situation go on. No more lives would be lost over those papers Jake had sent her. Right now she wished she’d never received them. Then she’d never have been involved.

  She knew Roarke disagreed with her conclusion, but, she had to give him credit, he’d heard her out calmly. “Whatever twenty-five-year-old secret is in those papers can stay a secret. It’s not worth any more lives.”

  Roarke gripped the car’s steering wheel loosely, his emotions contained and controlled, his tone reasonable, although she suspected he was annoyed with her. “And how do you suggest making a deal? We don’t know who is after you.”

  “I don’t need to know.” Alexandra leaned back in the car seat, but she couldn’t relax. Not with both sets of papers in the car—one set in the blueprint tube, the other copy packed with her clothes. “You said they’ll be watching my apartment?”

  “Yes?”

  She’d worked out a simple plan that shouldn’t endanger anyone. “So we’ll turn on the light outside my front door, and leave one set of papers on my front stoop. If they want them, they’ll come and get them.”

  She glanced over at him, waiting for him to poke holes in her strategy, waiting for him to tell her why s
he shouldn’t hand over the documents.

  But Roarke said nothing.

  His face gave away none of his thoughts.

  While she wondered what was going on in his mind, she wasn’t going to let him convince her to go on as they had been. She wanted her life back. And even if her biological father had been murdered over the secrets in those papers, she wasn’t about to give her life for them, too.

  If that made her a coward, so be it. She wouldn’t have more lives on her conscience, not while she believed she could put a stop to the plotting and spying and killing. Maybe Roarke was accustomed to living in this kind of world—she wasn’t. She wanted to go home to the same place every night, sleep in the same bed. And if Roarke condemned her for ending his assignment, she would live with that, too.

  Roarke spotted a pay phone nearby. “Wait here. I want to call Carleton, make sure the police didn’t hassle him and he got back to the office okay, see if he’s all right and if he’s found anything new.”

  “Okay. But I’m not changing my mind.”

  Apparently Roarke knew better than to argue with her. He didn’t even try. She was just happy not to have more disagreements between them.

  Despite her earlier words, she was grateful that Roarke refused to abandon her. Her enemies were pros. She knew she wasn’t equipped to deal with them. She also knew that after she gave up the papers, the bald-headed man Roarke called Top Dog might want to tie up all the loose ends by killing her. Since Roarke hadn’t tried to deter her by pointing out that possibility, she felt as if he agreed that the benefits of her plan exceeded the risks.

  He made several phone calls, returned to the car and slid behind the wheel. “Harrison still hasn’t heard from your brother. And my license won’t be suspended although the police want to talk with me after this assignment is over.”

  “And Carleton?”

  “He’s fine. He’s got an ice pack on his head, but his computer search for Top Dog has turned up nothing new. The CIA is notoriously close-mouthed about their classified operations. His sources within the agency don’t go back that many years.”