Chapter Eight
After securing the door, Holt watched Cecelia turn a slow circle, taking in the quarters of his modest cruiser, and waited for the disappointment. He should have known she’d be too polite to let it show.
“It’s gorgeous,” she said, sounding breathless.
“Thanks,” he muttered. He didn’t believe her. His boat wasn’t gorgeous, it was simple. Sure, he’d chosen the finest materials when he’d done the necessary upgrades, but the streamlined design made the most of space best described as cramped. It hadn’t bothered him before because he hadn’t planned to ever share these quarters with anyone. Seeing her here had him questioning his solitary plans, which was a completely random and impossible line of thinking.
She was the director’s sister and a potential victim he was trying to protect by pretending to date her. Key word: pretending. He had to keep that in mind.
“Were you sailing on this when you took those pictures down along the Florida Keys?” She moved about the space, touching his things. His body reacted as if she were touching him.
“That’s where I picked her up,” he said. It surprised him how much pleasure he got from her enthusiasm for the boat and the pictures he’d taken. Sailing wasn’t in her online profile and his searches hadn’t revealed any recent love of the sea, but by now he should expect the unexpected where Cecelia Manning was concerned.
Holt rarely encountered anyone who surprised him as much as this beautiful woman. She was nervous about being here alone with him. But she’d come willingly. That said, she still clutched the weapon in her pocket.
“You can let go of the gun. I’m not stealing you away.” Not tonight, anyway. Based on Isely’s behavior, it looked like tomorrow was still task one on the agenda.
She visibly attempted to relax, withdrawing her hand from her pocket but leaving the weapon there in case she needed it. As if she knew what the move did to him, she ran her newly freed hand along the polished teak of the cabinetry.
Holt had to look away. His imagination painted a vivid picture of her hands running over his skin with the same blatant appreciation.
Wasn’t going to happen. Not once she knew the truth. Hell, she probably already knew more than she should. Focus, man. He needed a change of clothes. To get the grime of thugs off him.
“It’s so warm.”
He stopped in the process of emptying his pockets onto the narrow table, certain he hadn’t heard her correctly. “Pardon me?”
“The cabin,” she said. “I would have expected it to be cold down here.”
Ah, that made more sense and was a complete departure from where his thoughts had traveled. “Yeah. That’s part of the design.” He opened the laptop he kept on board and inserted a flash drive. “I’ll get you back to your hotel just as soon as I check out a few things.” Primarily that it would be safe to take her there. Highly unlikely, but he had an obligation to check.
“No rush. It’s nice to just breathe for a moment.”
“You should call your brother and let him know you’re safe.”
Holt didn’t like the look she sent his way but he ignored it, putting his energy into gaining some insight about Isely’s inexplicable escalation. If she hadn’t known who he was before, she’d certainly already figured out plenty about him.
“So you do know who I am. Who I’m related to.”
“I know you’re Cecelia Manning. Recently widowed, philanthropist and your slice backhand is the best shot of your tennis game. You enjoy time with friends, your weekly yoga class and prefer pinot noir to merlot.”
“The wine thing wasn’t on my profile.”
Time to face the music. There was no more time for games. “No, I learned that by perusing your wine rack.”
“You’ve been in my house?”
The astonishment on her face sucker punched him. He gritted his teeth for a second then said the rest. “Easier to plant the bugs that way.”
“You bugged my house.” She swore softly, but with enough heat that he knew her cooperation was over.
He’d just have to deal with that. Better to clear the air here and now so they could be on the same page moving forward. She might hate him for his tactics, but he couldn’t leave her alone now. Not with Isely’s erratic behavior. Holt opened his mouth, but her clear, regal voice filled the galley instead.
“Thomas did put you up to this. I’m going to kill him with my bare hands,” she finished with a low growl. “He’s getting better at lying to me. There was a time when he would never have been able to pull something like this over on me.”
Her statement about Casey gave him pause. “No. Wait. You can tell when he’s lying?” It was something Holt still hadn’t mastered and a skill that would be useful beyond measure. Assuming he managed to keep his job.
“Apparently not anymore,” she glared at him, then she bit her lip and her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
“Don’t do that.” He could not deal with a weepy woman tonight. Not any time.
Less than half an hour ago, she’d danced like they’d never been jumped in the alley. Her eyes had been clear when she’d agreed to kneecap the assailants at the party if necessary. Why would learning their connection had been a setup distress her so?
“Don’t worry. I won’t crumple.” She gazed upward and blinked rapidly. “I’m just angry.”
An unexpected emotion nudged him. Guilt. “You’re wrong. Sort of. Thomas had nothing to do with this. Unless you told him, he doesn’t know about us.”
“Us?” She gave a short, brittle laugh.
“Us.” He forgot the mission and the phones and reached across the small cabin for her, realizing he’d lose her cooperation completely if he didn’t handle this right. Her cooperation was critical in these next hours, even if Thomas didn’t understand that yet. If she broke down in a panic or flew off in a rage, Isely would have her—and use her against the two most knowledgeable agents in Mission Recovery.
She shrugged him off, but there was nowhere for her to go. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close until she stopped struggling. “Just let me explain.”
“You lied to me. All these weeks.” Tears threatened again, but she prevailed. “I’m an idiot.”
“No, you’re not. I lie to everyone. It’s part of the job, and I’m very good at my job.”
She blew out a sharp breath that shifted her bangs out of her eyes. “I know. I know.”
“From what I hear, you’ll be joining the ranks of people like me next month.”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course a man in your position could find that out.”
“Are you excited about the move to ops?”
She scowled up at him, clearly unwilling to change the subject. Wisps of her hair were tangled at the corner of her long lashes and he cautiously moved them to the side.
At least the tears were gone and she looked like her composed self again. And mad as hell.
“Thomas said someone wants to kidnap me.”
Holt nodded. “That he was right about that should be obvious after two attacks in as many hours.”
“He mentioned your name.”
Holt stiffened. “Good.”
Those lake-blue eyes of hers went wide. “Good?”
“That’s what I need him to believe.” He took in the clenched teeth. “His warning is why you thought about ditching me at the bar.” That last part was a guess, but coming to that conclusion was fairly easy.
She sniffed, clearly annoyed he’d deduced correctly. “And just what am I supposed to believe, Mr. Holt?”
There was an easy answer, but he couldn’t get the words past his lips. Lips that wanted to taste hers again and show her the honest, brutal need for her beating like a drum inside him.
To preserve his sanity, he
released her and took a step back. To seal the deal on her continued cooperation he said what he needed to say. “When I learned you might be a target, I used the online profile to get closer. Thomas doesn’t know anything about my approach, and I’m sure he’d be furious to know how much I’ve come to care for you.”
She scoffed, turning her back on him and tracing the wave design carved into the cabinet door. “He said I was a pawn.”
“To his enemy, you are.”
“But not to you.”
He should clarify, admit the confusion twisting inside his gut where she was concerned, but they were short on time. On some level what he said wasn’t a lie. But this was new territory for him, these emotions unfamiliar. This was no time to be confused. He slid onto the bench at the table and set out the phones he’d taken from Isely’s men.
Rather than dwell on the confusion, he focused on the facts. “The team Thomas assigned to follow you is in a world of hurt about now. Please send him a text that you’re okay and safely in your room.”
“I should.” She pulled out her phone, tapping it against her open palm. “No matter what I tell him, he’ll only follow the GPS signal here.”
“You disabled that before you left the hotel to meet me.”
She gave him a startled look, but didn’t deny it. “For the date that wasn’t,” she groused.
“I think it would’ve been a great night if we’d been left alone.”
“Maybe,” she allowed.
“Why’d you do it?”
“The GPS or the date?”
“The GPS.” Though he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit he would very much like it if she answered both questions.
She shrugged. “Thomas likes a challenge. I assume he recruits like-minded people.”
Holt laughed at her accurate assumption. “Here I thought it was because you were ashamed to be seen with me.”
She leaned back against the woodwork she’d admired and did something with her phone before dumping it back in her purse. She drummed her fingers lightly as she watched him.
He didn’t care for the close study, but he managed to ignore it.
“I was never ashamed to meet you. Not even after Thomas warned me off. I was curious. Excited,” she admitted. “And not at all ready to share you with my overprotective family or nosy friends. I was determined to prove that Thomas was wrong about you. I’m reassessing that conclusion just now.”
“Are you always so candid?” He started downloading the text messages and recent locations logged by the system since the phones were activated.
“No.”
He counted himself fortunate in that much, at least. “How did you plan to explain my appearance tomorrow night?”
“Vaguely.”
She was smiling, he could hear it in her voice. It worried him. Not the smile specifically, but recognizing her inflections so well already. Not recognizing, he amended, reacting to. That was the issue here. Recognizing what others were thinking was his job. Reacting this way to anyone was not.
“What are you doing?”
“Reviewing communications,” he said. Then an idea occurred to him. Cecelia didn’t like her brother and daughter doubting her. “Want to help?”
“Sure.”
She slid onto the bench beside him and the hint of vanilla in her perfume tugged at his senses. The scent was one he associated with innocence, but the images she inspired were in no way innocent. Having her join him had been a mistake. A rookie mistake. He hadn’t made one of those since he’d actually been a rookie. He handed her a phone and told her to run through the call log and text messages.
“We’ll take out the SIM cards and toss the phones on our way to the hotel.”
“Our way?”
“There’s no way I’m letting you out of my sight. They’d have you in less than a minute.”
“I’m not that easy.”
“No, you’re not. But they are that good.”
“Thomas thinks you’re working with them. I get the impression they think you’re working with them.”
Ah, more of that refreshing frankness. He slid down the bench and away so he could gather the few things he needed. He didn’t reply to her fishing comment.
“Oh, I get it. That’s what they’re supposed to believe.”
“You’re a quick study. Can you finish this while I pack?”
“If you tell me what I’m looking for.”
“You’ll know it when you see it. One-word messages. Addresses. There’s probably nothing incriminating anyway, but I want to try.”
His laptop and tuxedo were already at the room he’d booked under an alias at the Plaza, but he wanted a change of clothes, his camera and the money and gun he knew would trace back to Isely’s illegal operation.
“Emmett?”
“Yeah?”
“Who is Irina?”
The name wasn’t familiar to him. “Could be a contact.”
“Hmm. There’s a date listed in the next message.” She nudged the phone across the table to show him the text message. “It’s this Saturday.”
The day after the gala where Isely had ordered him to kidnap her. He thought of the warehouse address he’d received at the restaurant. A warehouse on the water would be the perfect staging area and make it easy for Isely to take Cecelia out of the country.
“What are the other numbers?” she asked.
He looked. “Best guess is latitude and longitude.” As specific as an address could be, Holt thought with more than a little frustration for not anticipating an exchange at sea. Without a deeper investigation into the name listed, he couldn’t make assumptions.
“But—”
He cut her off. “We can analyze it later.” He made sure the information was downloaded, then closed the computer and tucked the SIM cards into his camera bag. “For now we have to get you back to the hotel without being intercepted by your brother or Isely’s crew.”
“Sounds like fun.”
He stared at her, caught the sparkle in her eyes. “You’re serious.”
She nodded. “I’ll think of it as an early training exercise.”
“Except this is real and your life is in danger.”
“Seems like mine isn’t the only one. You appear to have a few enemies of your own.”
“A few more now since I didn’t hand you over to Isely’s men tonight.”
“Why does he want me?”
“So he can cause your brother pain.” But he was starting to suspect there was more going on in Isely’s mind than just his determination to destroy Thomas’s family and reputation.
“What did Thomas do?”
“His job.”
Holt doused the lights in the cabin, relieved when the darkness seemed to mute Cecelia, as well. She was asking too many questions he wasn’t ready to answer.
Tomorrow night, when he was sure the two of them were away cleanly, he’d tell her everything. He was counting on her to understand and be willing to do what was necessary to save her brother and the Mission Recovery team from disaster.
She didn’t know it yet, but after witnessing her courage tonight, she’d become the ace up his sleeve. Her initiative gave him hope they both might yet get out of this in one piece.
The boat rocked gently in the slip as they moved up on deck. “We have to get out of here before the local police start searching the docks.” Not to mention Isely’s goons.
“You’re sure the police can’t help us?” she asked.
He steadied her as she took the wide step across the dark water to the dock. They moved quietly toward the gangway. “I’m the bad guy, remember? More to the point, people in our line of work are supposed to avoid getting caught.”
“We can’t just sail away?”
“I wish,” he muttered. “Too many people know you around here. They’ll send a unit to your house as soon as your friends at the party mention your name.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing. My daughter sent a text earlier. She thought someone had been in the house while she’d gone to the airport.”
“Was anything missing?”
She shook her head. “It’s probably nothing, just her uncle’s concern for me weighing on her mind. Police involvement will only aggravate Thomas. He’s had a team parked on my street, watching the house, for days.”
Holt considered telling her the observation team hadn’t been sent by Thomas, but it could wait. He was more concerned about the break-in at her house. One more wrinkle in an op he might never iron out the way he wanted to.
She paused just outside the soft glow of the light where the dock met the gangway. “There’s no way the police won’t be looking for me. Heather witnessed those men attempting to take me. I should just go into the marina and give a statement. I can prove you were there to help me.”
“Not a good idea. I wish we could prove you weren’t even there.”
“Too many camera phones for that to work,” she said, sounding weary for the first time.
Holt pulled out the remaining functional burner phone and called the cab company.
“You have the number memorized?”
“I saw it on the dash of the cab on the way here,” he said.
“You have a photographic memory?”
He nodded. “The one good discovery from my childhood.” Why had he said that? His childhood had no significance here, aside from the street smarts he’d learned that might help them. “I don’t think your brother has turned over my name yet. Any friends on the police force?”
“Of course.”
“Of course,” he echoed. “You have friends everywhere. Call one of them. Give him some line about gala business and offer to give your statement at the hotel.” He checked his watch. “In an hour.”
“It’s a twenty-minute drive.”
“Let’s hope so.”
“What should I say about you?”
“Nothing if you can get away with it. If you have to say something, call me protective detail. That should hold up for a day or two.”
Harlequin Intrigue November 2013 - Bundle 2 of 2 Page 8