by Jeanne Adams
"Does he always listen to music?" Caine asked, watching Xavy nod in time with an unheard beat.
"No, he's got several audio books downloaded to it too. We were reading Harry Potter, and I managed to bring that with us, but he gets carsick if he tries to read."
"Ah. Well, since he's not listening, I'll tell you what we else we need to do. We'll need to pose as husband and wife. Xavier will be our son—"
"Married?" she interrupted.
"Better than brother and sister." He couldn't help but look at her. "I don't think I could pull that off."
She blushed, an attractive flush that lit her features. He felt himself respond, even to such a little thing. No. No way he could pretend to be her brother.
She managed to pull herself out of whatever embarrassing thoughts she was having enough to say, "Better say he's my son from a previous marriage, or we'll attract attention. He doesn't favor either of us."
"Yeah, he's all Walker, poor kid."
"He hates it."
"I'll bet."
They talked a bit more, making plans, but until they got to the change point there wasn't much to discuss. Both Dana and Xavier dozed as Caine drove toward Leesburg, and he was left alone with his uncomfortable visions of Dana. He was going to have to treat her as a wife for their cover. Could he keep himself from going too far?
He'd kissed her the other night, sort of a test to himself. He'd wanted to prove that she wasn't really as luscious as he'd thought when he first saw her, glaring down at him, a gun pointed at his head. He'd wanted to prove it was just the moment, the intensity of life and death, that made him want her.
He'd been wrong. He wanted to kiss her again. And do more than kiss her, he admitted. He wanted to explore that fine figure, see what made her tremble.
He excised that chain of thought, knowing it would get him too riled up to focus, to be sharp. Instead, he thought about the afternoon they'd spent outside. He realized he wanted to erase the haunted, hunted look from her eyes, to see her laugh as she had when the three of them had played all afternoon with the dog.
Dana awoke as they swung into Leesburg proper.
"Pretty busy for the middle of the morning, even on a weekday."
"It's popular with tourists," he said, braking gently as an obvious visitor, as well as two locals, pulled in and out of narrow parking spaces, and darted across the narrow street.
"Where are we going?"
"To get married."
Chapter Eleven
"What?" Dana's reply was shocked, and immediate.
"We'll change identities when we change cars," Caine said as he made two turns which brought them alongside a serviceable brick building. The window glass was dark, the openings barred. Although well-kept, the building was obviously deserted. Power company signs informed passersby that high voltages were in use and to beware. "Which means, we'll be husband and wife."
Turning into the alley, Caine stopped at a roll-up door. A keypad gave them access, and he pulled the Cadillac into the cavernous space. Automatic lights flickered on, revealing rows of vehicles along the walls. As the door rolled down, closing them in, she spotted a small office area and rows of lockers.
Pulling the Caddy into an empty space, Caine switched the engine off.
"Now what?" Dana asked.
"Unload. I'll see which car's best for what we need and get the paperwork."
To Dana's relief, Caine was treating her as an equal. She knew from his body language and constant checks of the rearview mirror that he was concerned. The proverbial black cloud hovered over him, an echo of the angry pain he'd evidenced in their talk at the mountain house.
She was worried, scared. But something about his pain went deeper, blacker than concerns about being on the run. While she wondered about that, she also recognized that his assessment of the ambush at the house in the mountains was dead on. They'd been flushed like quail.
She watched him go from car to car, opening the glove compartment in each as she piled the bags on the tail gate of the Caddy, ready for transfer.
"This one," he called. "It's got his and hers ID, credit cards, etc. Let's load it up."
With Xavier's help, they got everything shifted with a minimum of fuss. It was another SUV, a Suburban. As large as the Cadillac, it wasn't as luxurious. Dana was sorry to close the door on the Caddy, locking the keys within it, as Caine had instructed.
"Dana, I need you in here," he said, walking into the office. Xavier was poking around in the other cars, including an ancient-looking, rusty, old pick-up truck.
In the office, he'd opened one of the lockers. "What size ring do you wear?"
"A six, why?"
"You have three choices of engagement ring, and we have to decide how long we've been married."
"Hmmm," she hummed the sound, perusing the sparkling gems. "Are they real?"
"I have no idea. Probably."
She picked a square cut diamond with a wide band and two sapphires. A narrower diamond and sapphire eternity ring was paired with it as a wedding band. Slipping them on, she took a moment to admire them, then felt guilty for doing so.
"Pretty," he said as he slipped a simple gold band on his left hand. "Your husband has good taste. Why not that one?" He pointed to a two-plus carat emerald cut diamond with a diamond studded band.
"It's too big for my hand."
He laughed and, suddenly, hugged her. Her heart leaped at the easy gesture. "I agree. The princess cut suits you."
"What else is in there?" she said, peering into the locker. She didn't want to think about that hug, the spontaneity of it, the heat.
"Passports," he said, handing her one, along with a wad of bills. "Put that in your purse. It's two grand. We'll distribute it to the other bags. Hide your regular ID and put wallet and license in the glove box in your purse."
"We aren't going to stand up to a serious search."
"We won't have to, I'm not planning to leave the US. We'll hit another depot if we have to go cross-border."
Dana took the money and passports. At the car, she helped Xavier rearrange things and distribute some of the money, stuffing a wad into her duffel, another into Caine's black jump bag, and a roll into Xavier's backpack as well. She had her wallet in hand when he climbed into the car.
"Let's move out, keep it low risk."
"People come here?"
"It's checked every few days. If there's one in and one out, they take the car coming in and service it. Log the miles."
"Jeez, our tax dollars at work."
"Yeah, top security clearance just to drive cars and detail them, no questions asked."
"What's it pay?" she asked.
"No idea. Over a hundred; it's top clearance," he added when she gasped in shock.
"I was joking before, but now I'm serious. I can't believe my tax dollars do that."
"It's saving our as ... behinds, at the moment."
"You have a point."
They merged into traffic, and Dana stared out the window, thinking about the next steps. The diamonds sparkling on her left finger felt strange. Donovan had showered her with jewelry, and she'd learned to judge quality. These were real diamonds. Good ones.
She seldom wore jewelry any more, though she'd kept some of it. Most was in a lock box, in a small North Carolina college town. She'd paid for the box for ten years and had the secondary key with her will, at her lawyer's office in D.C.
"Where are we off to?"
"We'll go north, toward Frederick, Maryland. We'll get supplies at the Costco there. Head to Baltimore on I-70."
"And then?"
"Go to Fells Point. There's a bed and breakfast there. It's secure," he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "We'll need to shop, change our personas. Clothes for all of us, change your hair. We'll get high-end watches, jewelry, that sort of thing at the warehouse store."
"We need snacks, things we can have so we don't have to go out."
"Good idea."
"So what's with th
is B and B? Why doesn't anyone but Tervain know about it?"
"They don't advertise. They just... serve."
"Not the best attributes if you want to build a business."
"The right guests find them. It's what we need," he said with emphasis. "I'll have to talk to them about the dog, but it won't be a problem."
"We don't go where Shadow can't," she said, standing firm. Turned in the seat as she was, she'd seen the mutinous look on Xavier's face from the corner of her eye. She knew she'd better say something before his outburst.
"Got it. I agree. We'll work it out."
"So then what?"
"What?"
"After we get there, check in. Then what?"
She saw him smile, but was taken by surprise when he reached over and took her hand, her left hand, where it lay in her lap. He interlaced their fingers, and the rings clicked together.
When she tried to shake him off, he tightened his grip. "Better get used to it, Mrs. Peterson," he said, referring to the driver's licenses, credit cards and so forth they had under the name Peterson. "When we get there, we go shopping, of course."
Xavier joined the conversation at this point. "Is that my name too? Peterson?"
"No, I think we'll make you Michael Clark, Sara Clark Peterson's son by a first marriage," Caine informed him. "We can call you Mike."
"What do I call you?"
"Charlie. Charles Peterson, to be exact, but you'll call me Charlie. You'll obviously still call your mom, Mom, so that's no problem."
"We didn't decide how long we've been married, what our story is." She was trying to distract him; distract herself from the way the warm clasp of his hand arrowed a pang of need straight to her heart. And her belly. She wasn't going to think about that, she lectured herself. No getting involved.
"No, we didn't. What do you think? Two years? Three?"
"I know, I know," Xavy was practically bouncing in his seat with excitement. "It's like Kenny's parents, the De-Marcos. They've been married for maybe, I don't know, four years? Anyway, they met on a cruise. You could say you left me with your mom, Gramma whaddayacallit..."
"Clark," Caine supplied.
"Yeah, Gramma Clark, and went on a cruise with your girlfriends. That's what happened with Kenny's mom. He," Xavy pointed at Caine. "He could be like Mr. De-Marco. He was on the cruise with some of his friends, and that's how you met."
Dana checked Caine's reaction. A twinkle sparkled in his eyes, but his face remained serious.
"That sounds good. You okay with that, Sara?"
"Fine with me, Charlie."
"No, Mom, you have to call him honey. That's what the DeMarcos do. She calls him honey, and he calls her sugar pie."
Caine laughed out loud at this one.
"You call me sugar pie, Charlie," Dana warned, "and I'll be supremely pis—irritated."
"How about dear?"
"Fine, but no sugar pie." She knew it was petulant, but having him calling her sugar pie was too ... icky. She'd met the DeMarcos, and they did hang all over one another as if they'd gotten out of bed ten minutes before and wanted to go back.
Thinking about marriage and bed was a bad thing to do around Caine. Dana's hand was nearly on fire from holding his. Once again, she tried to slip free, but he rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. The blaze spread to her belly.
"Got it," he said, never acknowledging her attempt to pull away. "I'll respond to Charlie or honey, either one," Caine said, shooting her a wicked smile. He glanced at Xavier. "Anything else you can think of?"
"You have to hold hands. A lot. They do that too. Kenny says his Grandad calls it billing and cooing. What does that mean, exactly?" Xavier asked her.
"If you want a literal definition, it means to act the way lovebirds and pigeons do. They make a lot of noise when they're courting. But for people, it means holding hands a lot. Hugging. Sitting close together, that sort of thing."
"Yeah, yeah, that's it. You have to do that," he grinned at them. "It'll be cool."
"Cool?" Dana repeated, not sure she was ready for Caine to bill and coo. She was concerned about spontaneous combustion, especially if he was going to keep caressing her hand... or anything else. Don't go there, she reprimanded herself. "Hmmm," she managed. "We'll certainly try it, see how we do."
"We'll be fine," Caine assured, continuing to stroke her hand. How was it possible for him to turn her on with the merest breath of a touch?
To reroute her brain and her wayward emotions, she asked questions.
"What do we do after we check in?"
"Why, honey," he said, his voice saccharin sweet. "There are lots of things I'd like to do when we check in."
When she glared at him, at the double entendre, he laughed.
"We'll check in, do some shopping," he replied, more seriously. "Then I'll take my darling wife and our son to the Baltimore aquarium. Won't that be nice?"
"Super," she muttered as Xavier went into raptures over the possibility of the aquarium. Even the prospect of shopping could be endured if he could see whales and dolphins.
The entrance to Chessie's, the B and B in Fells Point, reminded Dana of the pub in the Harry Potter books, the one leading to the wonders and dangers of the magical world. The door was nondescript, with iron grating and an old-fashioned and very dilapidated mailbox hanging on the wall next to it.
"You sure this place is okay?" she asked Caine as they parked in front of the building and he pointed to the door. Crammed as it was between two larger storefronts, one of which seemed abandoned, the door promised very little in the way of luxury. It put her more in mind of bedbugs and rats the size of the motorcycles parked nearby.
"Don't judge a book by its cover. Not on this, anyway. Trust me."
"It's worked so far," she said, still dubious. "You going in first, or do we all troop in and scare them to death?"
"I'll go. Lock the doors."
"No worries, there," she said as he got out, glancing again at the line of Harley and Yamaha cycles. The door had barely closed when she engaged the locks. She saw him smile. He gave her a thumbs-up and disappeared through the shabby entrance.
"What is this place, Mom?"
"A hotel. A bed and breakfast."
"Yeah, I heard you say that before. What's it mean?"
"You get breakfast with the price of your stay."
"Like at the Hampton Inn or Comfort Inn or something?"
"Yeah, but usually, B&B's are small, family run. They're often in old gorgeous houses or mansions. They usually have only a few rooms and lots of antiques and stuff." She frowned at the peeling paint on the building's facade. She wasn't expecting antiques in this B&B, that was for sure.
"Uh, Mom?"
"Yeah?" Hearing the worry in his voice, Dana stopped watching the street and shifted to face him.
"You think it's, uh, okay? You don't think it's, you know, a trap or anything, do you?"
"I don't think so, sweetheart." She'd had no bad vibe about the place, other than thinking it was run down. Was Xavy getting something she wasn't?
"Do you have a bad feeling about it, honey? In your gut?"
"Huh?"
"A hunch, a feeling?"
"Oh. No, but it's spooky. One door in, no doors out. That kind of thing. Weird."
She relaxed, marginally. Xavier had shown no sign of having her ability to get feelings about things, but he was ten and a half. She hadn't really had much of a way with it until she was twelve or thirteen.
His assessment of the place was dead on, however. The more she considered it, the more worried she became. If Caine hadn't chosen that moment to return, she might have gone after him; an incredibly stupid idea. What was wrong with her?
Caine scoped the area as he strode to the car. Had she not been watching for it, she would have missed that entirely. Damn, he was good.
He got to the car and waited for her to unlock it. Climbing into the driver's seat, he started the engine.
"They have room. I got a suite.
One bed, a pull out sofa for you and the dog, big guy," he said to Xavy. To her, he said, "Don't worry, I'll sleep on the floor."
"I can sleep with Xavy. Shadow can sleep on the floor."
"We'll work it out, inside. We'll drive around to the loading dock. I'll let you, Xavy, and the dog out, unload, then park. They've got a space waiting."
"You know these people? Trust them?"
"With my life," he said calmly. "They're former operatives. They know the drill."
As he rounded the corner, an industrial garage door rolled open half a block down. It was in a modest brick building with windows that shone in the early afternoon sun. The sleek, steel-framed panes were obvious replacements, a modern contrast to the mellow, nineteenth century brick. The curtains were perfectly aligned in every window, and fountaining out of wire hayrack planters underneath the spotless glass, a riot of pansies and a variegated vines tangled in a cheerful artistry of green and purple.
They passed into the garage which was clean and brightly lit but small. There was barely enough room for Caine to reverse the truck, easing into a loading area.
They all piled out, Shadow with a ringing bark. Dana called the dog to heel, digging out his leash and handing it to Xavier.
"Hook him up," she said as he took the leather lead. "I want to check this out."
She climbed the steps to the loading dock as two men came through the door. They were both tall, but one was stocky, a front-lineman build, the other a rangy, lean basketball player type.
"Mrs. Peterson, so happy to have you with us. Mr. Peterson gave us very few details about your situation, which is how it should be," the rangy one said, shaking her hand, before going to operate a lift which brought their luggage from the floor of the garage to the top of the dock. "Less for us to tell, you know."
The other man shook her hand as well. "We love to have guests," he beamed, then added, "but knowing who they are and what's going on is absolutely none of our business."
Their matter of fact attitude, almost a comical opposite to any true, inquisitive innkeeper took her totally off guard.
"Now, Mrs. Peterson, if you and your son, Mike, will follow me? Yes, son, bring Rover right along with you." He led them into a wide, industrial-white corridor. It too was sparklingly clean.