Harlequin Intrigue November 2013 - Bundle 2 of 2

by Carla Cassidy

“You’re not going to kill Dr. Herndon.”

  “Yes, but don’t I need a prop or something? I have to make some kind of show of it.”

  His eyebrows rose above the top of his thick frames. “Show of what? Do you want to get arrested for attempted murder?”

  “What if you don’t make it inside?”

  “I’ll make it inside.”

  “Damn it.” Deb stamped her foot and the black dress rustled around her legs. “I feel like I’m going into a boxing ring with no gloves. Zendaris is expecting me to kill Dr. Herndon, and I don’t even know what the plan is.”

  “Technically—” Beau curled both hands around her throat and wedged his thumbs beneath her chin “—you’re still my captive. I’m going out on a limb trusting you, but I don’t know your real intentions. You’re on the edge, and there’s no telling what you might do to get your son back.”

  She jerked away from his warm touch, dashing a tear from the corner of her eye. “I don’t like feeling helpless.”

  “Trust me. I’ll handle this.”

  “You expect me to trust you and yet you just admitted you can’t trust me?” She dug her heels into the carpet.

  “You lied to me.”

  She blinked. He knew. “Wh-what are you talking about?”

  “When I first approached you, you lied about having contact with Zendaris.”

  It took a few seconds for the pounding in her temples to subside. “Of course I lied. My son’s life was on the line.”

  “It still is.”

  She jabbed her finger just below his perfectly tweaked bow tie. “Don’t screw this up.”

  “I never do.”

  “And that’s a lie.” She curved her lipsticked mouth into a smile. “You screwed up this assignment for Prospero, didn’t you? They expect you to serve them my head on a platter.”

  He tugged on the lapels of his jacket. “Don’t be so sure I won’t.”

  * * *

  THE TAXI ZIPPED through the streets of Boston on the way to the Marquis while Deb’s fingers toyed with the beads on her black evening clutch. She could wipe the smirk right off Beau’s face if she told him the truth.

  That wasn’t a sufficient reason to tell him that he was Bobby’s father, but she did have to tell him. He deserved to know. What he did with that information rested with him.

  Not all fathers wanted to be part of their children’s lives. Not all mothers wanted to be part of their children’s lives. For the second time that night, she whisked a tear away from her mascaraed lashes.

  She’d dealt with her abandonment issues long ago, but she didn’t want Bobby to deal with the same issues. At least he had a mother who loved him, which was more than she could claim. But she’d had Robert, and in the end that had been enough.

  Her taxi joined a row of them lined up in front of the Marquis.

  “Do you want me to drop you here, or wait until I roll up to the entrance?”

  “This is fine.” The hand that reached into her bag for some cash had a slight tremble. She wished she knew how Beau planned to pull this off.

  The driver had hopped out of the taxi and opened the door for her. Must be the dress. She pressed the money into his hand and thanked him.

  Closing her eyes, she rubbed her lips together. Time to don her identity for the night. She couldn’t be a nervous mom planning an assassination. That person wouldn’t win her many friends.

  She joined the throng of people entering the hotel, hitched up the bodice of her dress and patted the sides of her breasts to make sure they didn’t spill out. Then she put on a smile and plucked her invitation from her clutch.

  Lifting the skirt of her dress, she stepped onto the escalator. Tuxedoed men formed a barrier at the entrance to the ballroom, scanning invitations and checking bags. Without a metal detector in sight, it would’ve been easy to slip a weapon in here.

  She huffed out a sigh and presented her ticket to the sentry. He waved her through, and the crowd sucked her into the room.

  She claimed a glass of champagne from a passing tray and tossed back half of the bubbly liquid. Then she threaded her way through taffeta, silk and brocade all scented with expensive perfumes, and zeroed in on a clutch of people at the corner of the food table. Who didn’t like talking about food?

  She elbowed her way up to the trough and stabbed a shrimp with a red plastic toothpick and held it up to her neighbor. “Have you tried any of the dipping sauces yet?”

  Her new friend tapped a silver dish. “Try the Thai peanut sauce.”

  That remark launched an exchange about allergies, the weather, the Red Sox and Anthrax. Feeling warmed up, Deb sidled up to the next group where more inane conversation bubbled from her lips.

  Facing the ballroom’s entrance, she tracked the new arrivals. She could pick out Dr. Herndon from a newspaper photo but not from this crowd.

  Her gaze skimmed over a tall man with a full beard and moustache and then backtracked. She released a pent-up breath. Beau had made it through the doors.

  He jerked his head around as if knowing she had him in her crosshairs. His dark eyes behind the thick glasses met hers, and he cut a swath through the crowd toward the bar.

  She had a sudden longing to swill something stronger than the sweet champagne making the rounds. She excused herself from her current circle and weaved through a pack of penguins to join Beau at the bar.

  “Big crowd, isn’t it?”

  “Scotch, neat, please.” Beau barely turned his head. “It is.”

  “I’m not sure I can even pick out the guest of honor.” She rapped her knuckles on the bar. “Make that two, please.”

  Beau curled his long fingers around his glass and moved away from the bar. She followed, but she stood apart from him and scanned the room.

  “Over by the stage.”

  She glanced at the end of the room where several band members were tuning their instruments. “Tall man, receding hairline, jaunty polka-dot bow tie?”

  “That’s receding?” He smoothed a hand over his wig. “Go get acquainted as the black-haired siren. He likes pretty women. You need to get him alone.”

  “How am I going to manage that? He has a million people around him.”

  “Use your assets.” His gaze dropped to her décolletage.

  She nodded. This wasn’t the first time as a female agent she’d used her sex appeal on a mission—but it might be her last if she couldn’t get this job done.

  She lolled a tiny sip of scotch on her tongue before letting it roll down her throat, leaving a trail of fire. She straightened her shoulders, not bothering to tug at her dress’s bodice this time.

  Sauntering toward the stage, she rolled her hips and twirled a lock of black hair around one finger. Herndon noticed her approach from five feet away and broke off his conversation to send a smile of encouragement her way.

  She tripped to a stop at the stage, and her drink sloshed up the side of her glass. She put one finger in her mouth to suck off the scotch and widened her eyes. “Is there going to be music and dancing?”

  Herndon’s Adam’s apple bobbed once. “There is. Do you dance, Miss...?”

  He held out a hand, and Deb leaned in close to clasp it. “Desiree—it’s like desire with an extra e at the end—and I love to dance.”

  Herndon chuckled and his hand, which had grown moist, tightened its grip on hers. “I do, too. Promise you’ll find me when the band strikes up the first tune.”

  “Absolutely, Dr. Herndon.”

  “You know who I am?”

  “Of course.” She winked. “You’re the man of the hour, aren’t you?”

  His smile stretched from ear to ear. “I’m flattered, Desiree, and please call me Scott. I’m going to get a refill, but look me up for the first song.”

&nbs
p; She wet her mouth with the scotch and then swept her tongue over her lips. “Of course, Scott.”

  She turned and walked away, feeling Dr. Herndon’s eyes pinned to her swaying hips. Was he going to feel stupid when he found out her true identity? Probably not when he discovered she’d spared his life.

  On her way to the ladies’ room, she shot a look at Beau, chatting with two serious-looking young men. He ignored her.

  She scuttled into the bathroom and hunched over the vanity. She didn’t like using sex to do her job, but even a renowned scientist like Dr. Herndon wasn’t immune to female flattery and charms. Was that her fault?

  He wouldn’t be so anxious to go off with her if she presented as a studious young woman interested in nuclear physics. She’d go for the kill after their dance and invite him outside for some fresh air.

  Beau would probably make his case then.

  She grabbed a silver tube of lipstick from her bag and smoothed it over her lips.

  The toilet in one of the occupied stalls flushed, and a woman squeezed through the stall door, flattening the flared skirt of her gown.

  She joined Deb at the vanity and caught her eye in the mirror. “Sexy dress, but you might want to watch that bodice before it becomes a sexy half dress.”

  Deb glanced down at the top of her dress, hugging the curves of her breasts in a desperate attempt to stay up. “Oh, thanks.”

  She yanked at the bodice for the hundredth time that night, but once out of the bathroom she tugged it down to its previous daring level. Her slipping bodice just might be the key to getting Dr. Herndon outside...and saving his life.

  Several minutes later, melodious chords rose from the dais and Deb made a beeline for Dr. Herndon, surrounded by adoring geeks.

  Dipping between the black-clad shoulders, she shook her finger at Dr. Herndon. “You promised.”

  Like a magnet, his gaze dropped to her cleavage. He foisted his empty glass on one of his fans and rubbed his hands together. “I was waiting for you, Desiree.”

  He crooked his elbow, and she slipped her hand around his arm. He led her to the dance floor where several couples were already swirling to a waltz.

  His arm dropped to her waist and he pulled her close, crushing her barely concealed breasts against his starched shirt. His heartbeat rat-tatted against her chest, his warmth heating her skin.

  Ugh, he must be very excited. She bit her lip and muttered a curse at Beau Slater.

  He twirled her once and stumbled as he hugged her close again.

  “Are you okay, Scott?”

  He wheezed. “I’m fine. Haven’t danced in a while and it’s a bit warm in here, don’t you think?”

  He couldn’t have offered her a more perfect setup.

  She squirmed out of his tight grip and smiled into his red face. “I am feeling overheated. Maybe we can get a breath of fresh air outside.”

  “Let’s finish this waltz and it’s a deal.” A trickle of sweat rolled down the side of his face and dripped onto his high collar.

  “Are you sure you’re okay, Scott? We can sit this one out and get that air right now.”

  His lips moved but no sound came out. Instead, a trickle of saliva dribbled to his chin.

  “Are you ill?” Great—all she needed was for Dr. Herndon to draw attention to himself.

  His fingers dug into her flesh and his knees buckled. She wrested away from his hold so he wouldn’t take her down with him. And down he went.

  As Deb hovered over him, he clutched his throat with both hands. Blood gushed from his mouth and he toppled over.

  A woman screamed.

  Deb stepped back from the blood pooling on the dance floor.

  Someone grabbed her arm.

  Several people crouched beside Dr. Herndon.

  One solemn-faced man looked up and said to no one in particular, “Dr. Herndon is dead.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Let’s go.” Beau tugged on Deb’s arm again. She was the last one to have contact with Dr. Herndon, and she didn’t need the police questioning her.

  She stumbled against him, and he had to pull her dress up before she spilled out of it. No wonder Dr. Herndon had been so captivated. Now he was dead. Had she done it?

  He led her through the crowd pressing in to see the dead man on the floor lying in a pool of blood that had spewed from his mouth. Poison.

  Two security guards rushed past them. Shouts and cries swirled through the ballroom.

  And still Beau fought against the tide to escape from the room. Once outside the ballroom, he hustled Deb toward the stairwell.

  “It’s just one floor. Can you make it?”

  She hiked up her skirts and made a dainty dash for the stairs like Cinderella after the ball. Only Cinderella hadn’t left any dead bodies behind.

  Beau pushed through the fire door and pulled Deb out after him. The cold air blasted his face, bringing tears to his eyes. He took one step toward the line of taxis and limos at the curb and then flattened his body against the wall, taking Deb with him.

  Emergency vehicles double-parked alongside the taxis, and the first responders surged into the hotel.

  Holding on to Deb’s hand, Beau pivoted and walked quickly in the other direction from the commotion. He grabbed the handle of a taxi door and stuffed Deb into the backseat—right after he yanked the black wig from her head and the beard from his face.

  He gave the driver the name of their hotel and collapsed against the seat. His gaze slid to Deb, her chest rising and falling, wisps of auburn hair framing her face. He pressed a finger to his lips.

  When they got to the hotel, they stood shivering on the sidewalk. He turned her toward the door. “You go through the lobby, and I’ll go the back way.”

  He took the three flights of stairs two at a time. By the time he reached the room, Deb had the chain on the door.

  She let him into the room and then dropped onto the bed, the black dress swirling around her.

  “Did you do it? Did you kill Dr. Herndon?”

  She popped up like a jack-in-the-box. “Are you crazy? Of course I didn’t kill him.”

  All the tension he’d been carrying in his shoulders seeped out—almost all of it. “Okay, okay.”

  “Do you really think I’m capable of murdering someone?”

  “You’re a covert ops agent. You’ll do what’s necessary to get the job done. You’re also a mom who wants her son back.”

  “I’m not a cold-blooded killer.”

  “What happened back there?”

  “Poison.”

  “My take exactly, but how? Why? Who?”

  “I don’t know.” Her fingers pleated the silky black material of her dress. “Everything was going as planned. I had Dr. Herndon wrapped around my finger. He would’ve followed me to Jupiter after that dance.”

  “So would’ve half the men in that room.”

  Her glance knifed him between the eyes, and he spread his hands. “That’s a good thing. You were doing your job. When did you notice he wasn’t right?”

  “Almost as soon as we hit the dance floor—rapid heartbeat, sweating, flushed skin.” She hugged herself. “He became unresponsive and then collapsed to the floor.”

  “It didn’t look like anyone else was affected, so someone targeted him, but how?”

  “His drink. He seemed to be drinking a lot. His glass was always empty or almost empty. Someone must’ve slipped him something in his drink.”

  “It couldn’t have been Zendaris. He fully expected you to do the deed.”

  “What if he knew I wouldn’t do it? He wanted Dr. Herndon dead, so he had a backup plan.” She pulled the pins from her hair and they fell to the bed. “What if he knows I failed?”

  “How could he know your
thought processes? If he had a plant at the party, he must’ve noticed you moving in on Herndon.”

  She doubled over and her now-loose hair tumbled around her bare shoulders. “What a mess.”

  “Deb?”

  Peering at him through a veil of hair, she said, “Yes?”

  “It’s not a mess.”

  “Dr. Herndon is dead.”

  “Exactly.”

  She sucked in her plump lower lip. “I didn’t kill him. I wouldn’t kill him.”

  “Zendaris doesn’t know that. All Zendaris is going to see on the news tomorrow is that Dr. Scott Herndon died at the party in his honor. Don’t get me wrong.” He peeled off his jacket and loosened the bow tie. “I’m sorry for Dr. Herndon, but his murder leaves you in the clear.”

  “That’s...awful.”

  “But true.”

  “Do you really think Zendaris will believe I murdered Dr. Herndon?”

  “Why wouldn’t he? He’s holding your son. He sent you to do a job. The target has been neutralized.”

  “But who did it?”

  “Maybe someone who has the same objective as Zendaris. Maybe the same person who shot at you the other night.”

  She plowed her fingers through her hair and pressed her palms against her temples. “Is there some shadow operation going on paralleling mine? This is a mess. If someone gets to the anti-drone plans before I do, what reason will Zendaris have for returning Bobby?”

  “We’ll just have to beat them to it.” His cummerbund gaped open and he shrugged out if it.

  “How are we going to do that? I don’t even know what Zendaris wants.”

  “You know, Deb. He wants the plans, and somehow Dr. Herndon was involved.”

  “Was.” She shivered.

  Beau knelt before her and slipped the high heels from her feet. “You did good, Cinderella.”

  “I used my body to entice a world-renowned scientist.” She flopped back on the bed and her toes dangled just above the floor.

  “You did what you had to do.” He took one slender foot in his hand and massaged her instep. “You did what was required. That’s what we do. It’s our number one job requirement.”

  She hitched up on her elbows. “Do you ever get tired of it? Do you ever get tired of being Loki?”