“Who’s there?” she said.
“I think you can guess,” said a familiar male voice.
“I think you can tell me,” she countered.
“Daniel McManus.”
“Okay. Come on upstairs to apartment 2B.” Beth smiled as she pushed the button that would open the front door. She liked pushing Daniel’s buttons that way, too. But she had selected this apartment partly because of its security system, and she intended to use it.
A knock soon sounded at her door. Sure, she knew who it was, but even so, she looked through the peephole just in case. It was habit, yes. It was also self-preservation.
The person standing outside was, unsurprisingly, exactly who she’d anticipated. Even so, she took a deep breath before pulling the door open.
He smiled at her, and she felt herself smile back—an unusual reaction these days—as she saw that he carried a small bouquet of daisies, which he held out to her. He didn’t wear his geeky glasses, and there was no slouch at all to his posture. He was even taller than she recalled, and he was clad much nicer than she, in a blue-striped shirt tucked into dressy navy slacks.
As if he considered this not an air-clearing and strategy session but a date.
“Come in.” She hated that her voice sounded hoarse. She hated even more how his blue eyes seemed to flash in amusement. She didn’t take the flowers from him, but after she closed the door behind him, he thrust them into her hands.
“Here,” he said. “Put them in some water.”
She opened her mouth to protest, although she didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t sound petty, but he interrupted her. “Yes, I know this isn’t a social engagement, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to make it look that way in case any of your neighbors happened to notice that you have company.”
She didn’t bother to say that her neighbors didn’t pay any more attention to her than she did to them. That might have been wishful thinking on her part. She had often considered the awful possibility that her cover here wasn’t as solid as she’d hoped, which was all the more reason to act like subdued Beth—while remaining as alert as Andrea had become.
“Good thinking.” She took the flowers from him. Her fingers accidentally touched his hand and she pulled away as if he had shocked her.
She didn’t want to be conscious of him as a man. He was just a person she needed to understand, to get along with. And work with, at least on some level, since they apparently had a mutual goal.
She turned her back and walked the three steps toward the narrow tile walkway that constituted the kitchen floor. She owned no vases. She barely had the basics of plates, cooking paraphernalia and flatware.
She opened one of the narrow cupboards over the counter, pulled out a glass, poured water into it from the faucet and stuck the flowers into it. “There,” she said. And then, belatedly, she remembered her manners. “Thanks.”
Daniel had followed her into what passed as a kitchen. “Smells good,” he said.
“Nothing fancy,” she responded, then could have kicked herself. She didn’t have to apologize for dinner. She didn’t have to apologize for anything. “So,” she said, “I can open a bottle of Chianti if you’re interested. I also have beer.”
“Beer sounds good.”
It did to her, too. She pulled two bottles from the fridge, some light domestic stuff that she’d bought in case she wanted something cold and alcoholic.
Tonight that sounded good.
She used the end of a can opener to open the bottles and handed one to Daniel. “I need to finish up some stuff,” she told him. “Why don’t you wait in the living room? I’ll be there shortly.”
“Nope. You can just put me to work in here.”
“But there’s no room.”
“I’ll improvise.”
She wanted to yell at him to get out of her space—in more ways than one. But when she looked up into his eyes, she felt an almost magnetic charge pulling her into their depths.
He wasn’t smiling. Neither was she.
What was going on between them?
Nothing, she told herself. Sexual attraction? Well, yeah. But that was all.
She couldn’t afford to care about anyone. Not now, not until she had her life back.
Maybe not ever.
“Fine,” she retorted. “Help yourself. Want to make the salad?”
“I’m great at chopping stuff.” This time he smiled. It was one damnably sexy smile. Challenging.
She made an exasperated face. “I’ll just bet you are.” She turned her back on him to open the refrigerator and extract a head of lettuce, tomato and green pepper. Nothing extraordinary. Just as the rest of her life was supposed to appear here.
She reached under her sink and pulled out a plastic cutting board, then got a serrated knife from her silverware drawer. She set the board at the edge of her tiny granite counter. Not much room, but he didn’t complain.
“Here,” she told him. “They’re already washed.”
She tried not to be conscious of his rhythmic movements as he cut the veggies while she put rice, water and seasonings into a pot to put onto the stove.
Rhythmic? Heck, that just underscored the guy’s sexiness, and that was something she didn’t dare to focus on.
Finally, he was done. The chicken and rice were cooking. She thanked him, put the salad he’d fixed into two small bowls, and carried them around the corner to the tiny table against the wall at the entry to her apartment’s single, all-purpose room. Fortunately, the table had come with two chairs. She wouldn’t have bought them separately.
She hadn’t believed she would ever have a guest.
She returned to the kitchen, stirred the rice and turned the stove down to a simmer, then checked on the chicken casserole in the oven. It appeared to be progressing well.
“Let’s eat our salads first,” she said. She picked up the bottle of Italian dressing she’d left on the counter along with her beer, walked back into the other room and sat down at the table.
* * *
The apartment was pretty much as Daniel had expected, a generic locale for someone on the run to hang out temporarily.
Beth, though, wasn’t what he’d expected of a subject being helped by the ID Division.
But he needed more information to determine whether that judgment would stick. He took his place at the opposite end of the small oblong table from her and put his beer bottle down. She’d already set the table, so he politely stuck his napkin on his lap and picked up his fork.
She was watching him, and as he moved, she repeated his gestures, as if she followed his lead even in her home environment. Why was that?
Her gaze was wary, her violet eyes shadowed, and she quickly looked down at her salad as she took her first forkful.
He wanted to leap up and shake her. Better yet, kiss those luscious-looking full lips so they stopped curving into a nervous line.
Instead, he decided it was time to begin with what he’d come here to do.
“So, Beth,” he said. “Or whatever your real name is. Why don’t you tell me who you are and why you’re actually here?”
“I asked you first.” She’d stopped chewing and her lovely face had gone pale. He wanted to reassure her that all was well, that he wouldn’t hurt her, but he couldn’t guarantee that. Not if he wanted to fulfill his own assignment.
He’d do his damnedest to protect her, though.
Unless she got in his way.
“Yeah, I guess you did,” he agreed. “But I think we’re at a stalemate here.”
“What did Judge Treena really say about me?” she countered.
“Not much.”
“Then, yes, I guess we are at a stalemate.” She stared him straight in the eyes again, then calmly stood and started walkin
g toward the kitchen. “I’d better check on the rest of dinner—although I suspect we’re going to be eating it in a pretty chilly atmosphere.” She stopped and looked down at him, a grim smile lighting her face. “Unless, of course, you want to start talking first after all.”
Daniel had a sense that they were about to embark on some very interesting communication. He would definitely enjoy their verbal jousting.
“Well, sure,” he said. “Why not? Want me to help you bring in the rest of dinner? I suspect we’re both going to lose our appetites soon, but we’ll have a very interesting conversation.”
Chapter 6
Beth kept her back toward Daniel as much as possible as they maneuvered around each other once more in her tiny kitchen. She’d placed the empty salad bowls in the sink and set plates onto the table.
Now she had to maneuver a bit more to open the oven door and extract the casserole dish filled with the seasoned chicken—and Daniel was much too close to her then, ostensibly digging out the serving bowl she had asked him to extract.
If she had backed up just a few inches as she bent over, her butt would have touched his. And that might only spur her disloyal mind to think about what else of hers could rub against his....
Heck, she wasn’t really attracted to him. Not much anyway. That would be sheer folly, and she was not a foolish person.
Besides, she didn’t like playing games, either physical or mental ones. She hadn’t liked them as Andrea, and she certainly didn’t like them now—especially when she had to mistrust everyone...even, to some extent, Daniel.
Sure, he appeared to be undercover here, sent by Judge Treena. And he had helped her when Corcoris was around. That meant he was more than a potential tool to help her find evidence in the labs, as she had imagined before.
He might actually be an ally.
With her hands in protective mitts, she lifted the casserole dish from the oven, inhaled its savory scent and shut the door. Daniel had finished scooping rice into the bowl. Chicken and rice after salad. This was a very simple dinner, Beth thought.
For a not-so-simple meeting. But she didn’t feel like eating much anyway.
“All set?” She inclined her head toward the door to the living room.
“Sure am.”
In another minute, they were both seated at the table, scooping the remaining elements of their meals onto their plates. They stayed silent.
Beth wanted to kick Daniel to get him to start speaking. His shin, under the table? Better yet, a more vulnerable part of him.
The thought made her flush with uneasiness...and, yes, curiosity.
Why did the guy cause such sexual interest in her? Because she hadn’t even thought of sex now for...what was it? More than a year. And her thoughts back then had been woven around a really scary situation, not being turned on by a hot guy.
Daniel regarded her with what looked like both interest and curiosity in his smiling blue eyes. Darn the man. It was as if he knew at least part of what she was thinking. The slight stubble on his angular face this late in the day only added to his appeal, and she looked back at her food...for a moment.
“So I thought you said you would tell me something about your background first,” she finally said.
“Yep, I guess that’s the plan.” He looked so blasé, taking in another bite of chicken. Why had she done this to herself? Why had she invited him? “First, though, even though I think you know who I am, I need to make sure you’re really who I think you are.”
She pasted a “you’ve got to be kidding” look on her face. “Okay, then, who do you think I am?”
“Judge Treena said there was someone working at Corcoris who was one of her group’s...protégés, for want of a better word. Someone who was supposed to be far away from here. She gave me both of her names. You’re Beth Jones, right?”
“That’s right.” She had already told him that.
But she knew what his next question would be. “If you’re really her, she also has another name. The name she used all of her life till she became Beth. Is that you? And if so, what’s your real name?”
Even if she were someone else playing a game, she would probably know the real name of the person she was pretending to be.
But if he was fishing, trying to learn her real identity? Well, Judge Treena had already told her to trust Daniel.
“My real name is Andrea Martinez,” she said.
* * *
So far, so good, Daniel thought.
He’d figured right, and so had Judge Treena. But he needed to learn more about why Beth had come back here to the place where she’d been put in danger in the first place.
First things first, though.
He took a drink of beer, watching her attractive yet worried face the entire time.
He wondered what she would look like with hair longer than the short black do she wore. He suspected that was a new style for her new persona.
So, probably, was the violet shade of her eyes. Contact lenses. They looked great on her—but what were her eyes really like?
Maybe he would find out someday.
For now, he needed to gain her trust. “Here’s my story, Beth. I assume you’d rather I call you that to help ensure that neither of us slips up while around other people?”
She nodded. “That’s who I am now.”
“Okay, then, Beth. My name really is Daniel McManus. I’m an agent of the Covert Investigations Unit, which is part of the Identity Division of the U.S. Marshals Service. As you probably know better than anyone, we have an important mission. I’m aware that you’re one of the folks that Judge Treena has helped who aren’t qualified for any witness protection program since you don’t have enough evidence or personal knowledge to allow you to testify against your enemies who want you dead, right?”
Her face turned ashen. “Right,” she whispered.
“Okay, then. We’re on the same side. I’m here to gather the evidence you need so we can put your enemies away for good.”
“Really?” The look on her face somehow melded hope and doubt and fear.
“Yeah. So I’m working on figuring out what Corcoris Pharmaceuticals, or at least some of its execs, are up to. And before you ask about my credentials, here they are. My parents are both cops, so I grew up wanting to be a good guy. I joined the Marines as soon as I was old enough and realized that combat training was good for a little while, but I wanted a different direction. When my tour of duty was up, I joined the FBI and became a special agent. But...”
Okay, while wanting both to impress and reassure Beth, he had strayed too close to revealing something about himself, his background, that he didn’t talk about. Not unless he absolutely had to.
Judge Treena knew. So did a few other trusted people.
But Beth didn’t need that extra information.
“But?” she encouraged, her voice still low and raspy. As if she sensed he held something back.
So what if he did? “But I was looking for more, and when I heard about the newly forming CIU, I jumped at it. I liked the idea of the ID Division, and that its Transformation Unit not only helped to change the identities of deserving people, but it also advised CIU operatives going undercover on how to change our looks and personalities. Now I take great pleasure in going undercover whenever and wherever to help people who deserve answers. Like someone named Andrea Martinez.”
The expression on Beth’s face suddenly morphed into unabashed hope. Her mouth opened, and her lips parted. Much too enticingly. It was as if she wanted to run to his side of the table and kiss him.
Hell, he wouldn’t mind that. In fact, he would welcome it.
Instead, she said, “Thank you. Thank you so much, Daniel. I’d heard a little about that aspect of Judge Treena and the CIU part of the ID Division but no one compl
etely confirmed it. If I’d been sure...well, I’d have had to come back here anyway. But I’m so relieved to have someone I can work with.” Her expression suddenly hardened. “I’m not just being a fool here, am I? I mean, you could tell me anything to make me let down my guard.”
“And if I tell you you’re not a fool to believe me? Looks like we have another stalemate forming. I’ll understand if you stay wary of me. But I’ve told you the truth, Beth. Whether or not you fully believe it, you can trust me.” As long as she didn’t make his job harder.
He had an unwelcome urge to seal that thought with a kiss. But he believed that any sudden motion on his part, anything other than acting professionally, would only scare her all the more. He instead finished his beer, then took another bite of rice. “Beth Jones is a good cook,” he said. “But I’m a better one. I’ll have to invite her over to my place for dinner one of these evenings.”
* * *
Beth laughed. The sound surprised her. So did her sudden relief.
She knew better than to fully let down her guard, but she’d check again with Judge Treena to try to confirm what Daniel had said. But it did at least comport with what Her Honor had said to her, which eased Beth’s concerns even more.
He hadn’t told her everything, though. He’d hesitated in the middle of his story and his expression had gone completely blank for a few seconds. As if he had swallowed something back inside.
It might be irrelevant, even if it made her curious.
For now, though, she didn’t hesitate—much—when he asked her to do her part in this conversation.
“You can undoubtedly get the necessary details about me from Judge Treena,” she said lightly, then took a sip of her remaining beer. “And you probably know at least some of it since she sent you here to go after Preston Corcoris. But here’s the gist of what happened. I was in public relations here at Corcoris Pharmaceuticals for a couple of years. Enjoyed my job helping to tell the world about our wonderful products. But then, as I was researching some of the newest things to determine how to promote them in the best light, I was told things about perfect quality-control reports being fudged somehow. Hidden flaws despite how glowing the reports were. Maybe even bribes to the outside labs that were starting clinical trials on people. I started asking questions. As I became more visible in the PR department, Preston Corcoris started coming on to me. In my naïveté, I thought I’d go along with him in a limited way—not have sex with him, of course, but see if I could get some more information from him.”
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