Hidden Hearts

by Susan Kearney

“Do the FBI and CIA spy on each other?”

  “We work together. We share information. And sometimes we investigate one another when our jurisdictions overlap.”

  “Who was your third call to?” she asked curiously.

  “Law enforcement.” When she didn’t say anything more, he added. “There’s a job I needed to set up.”

  The way he oh-so-casually mentioned other work made her think that he believed she wouldn’t need his protection much longer. She certainly hoped so. And yet she would miss his company. If she had to run from strangers, she couldn’t have had a better man than Roarke at her side. He had kept her alive. And he’d kept up her spirits.

  She’d never resolved her feelings for him either. While she believed they had much more going for them than lust, she couldn’t be sure she was in love. So she fully intended to see him again after all this trouble was over and give herself a chance to explore her feelings further.

  Glancing at him sideways, she realized he’d gone into his I’m-not-talking mode. While she supposed he was angry that she’d decided to give the materials up, he hadn’t said so. In fact, he hadn’t said much at all, just closed off his thoughts to her.

  “You’re angry, aren’t you?” she asked, hating the awkward silence.

  “Why do you think that?”

  “You’ve turned off the charm you ooze when you’re trying to convince me to do things your way.” She made the accusation, lightly, teasingly, but meant it all the same.

  “Have I?”

  “Don’t play dumb. I know there’s a brain behind that pretty face.”

  At her comment, he cracked a smile, a small one, but a smile nonetheless. “Let’s just say I’m disappointed. But I understand why you want to give up.”

  “You make it sound as if I’m waving a white flag in surrender to the enemy.”

  He cocked one very arrogant eyebrow. “You aren’t?”

  “I’m winning my life back. And that’s what I want—my life, not a bunch of old papers.” She made her voice less confrontational. “Surely you can understand?”

  “I understand. But I also understand that enemies of this country want those papers.”

  “We have a duplicate.”

  “If those papers teach terrorists to build biological weapons then our having a copy won’t stop them.”

  “Come on. Those papers are too old to contain technology that anyone would want today.”

  “Maybe.”

  She supposed she’d have to settle for his partial agreement, although she’d hoped for a smidgen of enthusiasm. Hoped he might reach over and pat her shoulder or squeeze her hand, but he denied her that comfort, too.

  Instead, he drove, swiftly and competently, back to her neighborhood. He didn’t bother hiding their vehicle’s approach to her apartment or their walk up the front steps, almost as if he intended to attract attention.

  Unlocking her front door was unnecessary. The door opened with a simple push. She gasped as she took in the mess inside. Every drawer had been pulled out of its cabinet and emptied, her furniture slashed, the stuffing pulled out. Several large vases were broken, her closets emptied, pictures dumped on the floor. At first glance, she wondered if vandals had ransacked the place, but a closer inspection proved how methodical the search had been. No corner had gone untouched. And while some items were broken, the chaos was mostly due to a horrendous mess.

  Alexandra shook her head and let out a long breath of air. They’re only things, items that can be replaced. Her precious architectural books might be littered across the floor, but the pages hadn’t been ripped out. The picture frame might be broken, but the treasured photograph of her and her parents taken when she’d been accepted to college hadn’t been damaged.

  As she set about clearing a path, Roarke checked the apartment for hidden intruders. But whoever had done the damage was long gone. Roarke used her phone, speaking too low for her to hear, as she replaced a winter jacket in her closet. Roarke hung up the phone and checked the locks on her windows and doors. He pulled the shades and blinds and turned on several lights.

  “You’re still determined?” he asked.

  She nodded and gestured her arms wide to take in the apartment. “I want this over.”

  “Fine. Leave the mess.” He placed the copy of Jake’s papers, wrapped in a rubber band, on her front-door mat. “Let’s get out of here.”

  She realized he’d tried to make the apartment look as if they were inside, but he had no intention of allowing her to stay to see if anyone accepted her offer. “Suppose someone else takes the papers?”

  “That’s not going to happen. I called Carleton and told him I was leaving the papers on the front stoop.”

  She looked at Roarke, confused. “You think Carleton is working for Top Dog?”

  Roarke shook his head. “Your phone is bugged. Top Dog will have overheard my conversation with Carleton.”

  He sounded so confident that she didn’t question him further. He took her arm and led her through the apartment to the back door.

  The last time she’d fled through here, she’d been alone. Now she had Roarke, but she still worried that they might be shot at as they fled.

  Roarke didn’t seem overly concerned. He hadn’t even drawn his weapon.

  They walked out onto the terrace and around the building toward the parking garage, Alexandra holding the blueprint tube with the extra set of documents. She had an eerie sense of déjà vu, but the thing she found most odd was how relaxed Roarke seemed. And he wasn’t faking. She knew the difference now. However, he never once let down his guard as he opened the car door for her and then slid into the driver’s seat.

  Puzzled, she turned to him. “I thought you said they’d be watching?”

  “They are. But Top Dog will have to call the guys on stakeout with his orders. And after the confusion I caused in their operation back at the construction site, communications lines are bound to need alterations and upgrades.”

  Her hopes suddenly soared. “Could you have killed the man in charge?”

  He shook his head. “Not likely. That man was a field agent. Orders come down from inside. Most likely Top Dog sits safely behind his title and his desk.”

  “Why are you so sure we aren’t in much danger?” she pressed him, suddenly realizing that he hadn’t told her his plans.

  He casually dropped the bomb. “Because I called in backup. Remember, I told you I called law enforcement? Police have been conspicuously watching your building since before we arrived.”

  “What!” She dropped the blueprint tube to the floor, unable to believe he’d gone behind her back after she’d expressly made her wishes known. How dare he use the papers as bait without telling her first? How dare he risk making their enemies angrier without discussing his plans with her? How dare he betray her like that? It wasn’t what he had done that made her angry, but that he hadn’t bothered to tell her first.

  Hurt slammed into her chest. She couldn’t get past the fact that he hadn’t even talked his decision over with her. He’d just gone ahead and let her think he was following her wishes, when in reality, he’d set other schemes in motion. “Damn you. You had no right.”

  “I have just as much right to follow my convictions as you do yours. That information may be invaluable.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Common sense tells me that with the way these agents are trying to recover it, the info must be valuable, probably explosive.”

  “But you don’t work for the Agency any longer. You’ve compromised your obligation to your client, your obligation to me.”

  “I’m sorry you see things that way.”

  “You knew I would. You knew my wishes. You just didn’t care—”

  “I cared.”

  “Not enough.” She made a visible effort to rein in her anger. “Besides, I thought you don’t trust the police.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Then what are they doing here?”

 
“Top Dog won’t make a move on you if the cops are watching.” At least he hoped Top Dog wouldn’t—it all depended on how desperate his foe had gotten.

  “But Top Dog can’t make a move on the papers with the cops out there.”

  “We’ll see. I’m betting he will.”

  Roarke pulled around the apartment complex and parked. “I think you may still get what you want.” He took out his binoculars. “A cop is retrieving the papers.”

  “Great. Just great.”

  “Another man in a coat and tie just strode over, flashed ID.”

  “So?”

  “The cop just handed the papers over to a man with a gun. He must be one of Top Dog’s men.”

  “So now the bad guys will think I set a trap. They’ll think I left the papers out there so when they retrieved them, the cops can make an arrest. They’ll think I betrayed them.”

  Roarke shook his head, his tone filled with satisfaction. “You don’t understand. Top Dog’s men think they’ve stolen the papers from the cops.”

  “You’re right. I don’t understand.”

  “Look, if you just handed the papers to Top Dog, he’d be suspicious. This way, Top Dog thinks he stole the papers from the police. By calling in the cops, I kept you safe. The bad guys have the documents—just like you wanted.”

  She suddenly felt foolish for thinking that Roarke had betrayed her. But it was his own fault, damn it. He should have shared his sneaky plan with her. But, oh no, he had to go and play secret agent and scheme without her. She felt outmaneuvered and unsure of herself. The minute Roarke had failed to explain something to her, she’d believed the worst of him. She didn’t trust him now and yet she’d trusted him when they’d made love.

  He didn’t deserve such inconsistency from her. Sure, he could have told her about the arrangements he’d made, but he’d put the performance of his job first—keeping her safe. And he’d explained after she’d asked. Was that good enough to satisfy her? She didn’t know. But she felt as though she owed him an apology.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He lowered the binoculars and replaced them in their case. He didn’t pretend not to know why she’d apologized, didn’t make it easy for her. “You aren’t ever going to trust me, are you?”

  She could have sworn ice chips floated in his ultra-blue eyes, pure coldness swimming in a pool of anger and hurt. His pain pierced her in unexpected ways. Yet all the blame wasn’t hers. “Why didn’t you just tell me what you’d planned?”

  “I’m used to working alone. But that isn’t the point,” he snapped. “I’m never going to be able to tell you everything ahead of time. You want the impossible.”

  “But I do want you,” she told him, hoping he could see she wasn’t any happier about her reaction than he was. “I want to keep on seeing you after all this is over. I want to see what it’s like to go out with you without looking over our shoulders. I want to see what it’s like be together under normal conditions.”

  He stared straight ahead, not even looking at her, his voice intense, yet conversational in tone. “I’m not sure that’s good enough. You aren’t reacting out of stress. Someone must have hurt you…”

  “His name was Patrick. He was handsome and charming and always said the right thing. We were going to marry. And then I caught him kissing another woman right in front of my office building.”

  “I’m not Patrick.”

  “I know.”

  “Well, guess what? I don’t want a woman who can’t trust.”

  A tense silence sizzled between them as she didn’t say anything more. Was he breaking off their relationship? Was he implying he wanted nothing else to do with her? She wasn’t sure. She only knew his words cut deeper that she’d have thought possible.

  Had she blown her chance for a future with this man? She didn’t know, didn’t seem able to control her shifting emotions. She only knew that she’d never forgive herself if she didn’t try to put things right. Except she was at a loss how to do so. She didn’t know what to say, because words wouldn’t fix the problem. Not when Roarke had pegged her so correctly.

  Roarke’s cell phone rang, breaking the silence and startling her. Although he kept phones in every car, he’d told her he didn’t use them except in emergencies since he feared the calls could be traced.

  He flipped it open, muttering, “It better be damn important for you to have called me on this line.”

  He listened, but instead of sharing as he once had, she heard only his side of the conversation. “Where? When? Got it.”

  Roarke looked over his shoulder to check and merge with the traffic, then pulled away from her apartment building. “That was Carleton. He has information for us.”

  ALEXANDRA WONDERED briefly if she would ever redeem herself in her own eyes. Had Patrick hurt her so badly that she was going to let it ruin her relationship with Roarke? She didn’t want that to happen. And yet…

  Roarke parked in front of a seafood restaurant, and they entered separately. He didn’t try to take her hand, didn’t so much as touch her as he opened the door for her.

  Alexandra should have been hungry, but the scent of fresh-fried catfish made her stomach turn. Unable to eat while still upset by her conversation with Roarke, she took a deep breath and vowed to think of other things. When she spied Carleton sitting at a booth in the rear, his forehead bruised, she headed there. When the men ordered a meal, she asked for a cup of chicken soup and a glass of ice water.

  Carleton looked from Roarke to Alexandra. Whether or not he sensed the tension between them, he didn’t comment but got right down to business. “Remember the man who left fingerprints in the phone booth?”

  Alexandra frowned. “The one who was supposed to have died years and years ago?”

  “His name was Simon, and he once worked as an agent with your biological father.”

  Roarke didn’t look surprised and Carleton noticed. “You’d already surmised that Alexandra’s biological parents were agents, hadn’t you?”

  Roarke nodded.

  Alexandra sipped her water. “Simon and my father were friends?”

  “I don’t know.” Carleton passed a file to Roarke. Big red letters stamped on the outside said Classified. “But the man who died this morning was also in that cell during one very secret assignment twenty-something years ago.”

  “What kind of assignment?” Roarke asked.

  “That’s beyond the clearance level of my source.” Carleton swallowed a bite of his grouper sandwich. “It’s way up there. You are dealing with someone powerful. I suggest you back off.”

  “I’d like to,” Alexandra admitted.

  Carleton took one look at the determination on Roarke’s face and then shook his head. “You can’t carry the weight of the world. Even your shoulders will break under the strain.”

  “Stop being so melodramatic and tell me what you’ve got,” Roarke insisted. His chin might as well have been chiseled from granite.

  “My source thinks it likely the documents are in code.”

  Alexandra’s eyes widened. No wonder the writing in the diary was so boring. The words weren’t meant to convey meaning. Excitement suddenly raced through her. Perhaps she and Roarke would take the extra set of documents to the FBI and have them figure out what was going on. Now that the criminals had the documents, they probably believed their secret was safe.

  “But since you gave up your set of documents, I suppose we’ll never solve the puzzle.”

  “Actually, we have another set of papers,” Alexandra told Carleton.

  The FBI agent didn’t seem surprised. “We could take a crack at it.”

  Roarke shook his head. “We need someone experienced in the codes they used over twenty years ago. We have to go to the Agency.”

  “But—”

  “It’s risky,” Roarke admitted, “but not as much as you’d think. The chances of us running into anyone aware of the people after us is very small. The Agency is divided into four main units: Operations, S
cience and Technology, Intelligence and Administration.”

  “It sounds complicated,” Alexandra muttered.

  “It is. Within Operations, there are several divisions, Covert Action, Special Operations, Counter Intelligence, Counter Terrorism and Specialized Skills. Each subunit has cells on every continent.”

  “Then why didn’t we ask for the CIA’s help in the first place?” Alexandra asked.

  Roarke pushed his food away and sipped his coffee. “The people after us know that we need a cryptologist to decipher the information.”

  Alexandra wondered if these men ever had the pleasure of looking at any problems as clean and straightforward as architectural ones. “So they may see us coming?”

  “They’ll be expecting us.”

  Carleton ordered key lime pie for dessert. “But they won’t be expecting a query from the FBI.”

  Roarke shook his head. “I won’t let you get involved. You have children.”

  “I’m already involved. And those children wouldn’t have been born if you hadn’t saved their father.”

  “Can you pull off a meeting from behind the scenes?” Roarke asked. “Set it up and remain anonymous?”

  Carleton dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “Sure. No problem.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Roarke and Alexandra spent the night in adjoining rooms at a hotel. While Roarke wanted to crack the code and learn the secret hidden within the documents, he didn’t want to risk Alexandra’s life to do it. Telling himself that he owed the Agency nothing did no good. He worried about having given Top Dog the documents but hoped that Top Dog wouldn’t be able to decode them either. Roarke simply couldn’t turn his back on his country when he sensed that something vital to the security of the United States would be found in the documents. Nothing else could explain the effort to retrieve them after all this time.

  Carleton had set up a meeting with a cryptologist, code-named Viper, through an FBI intermediary, and while everyone had used an alias, Roarke perceived that something wasn’t quite right. It was almost too easy. Yet, he hadn’t sensed anyone on their tail since Alexandra had left the first set of documents on her front-door mat.