A sharp intake of air was all the answer he gave. Then he cleared his throat. “The assassination of Dr. Herndon was just one step. Are you ready for the next?”
“Wait. I can’t talk here.” She scrambled from the mat and waved to Beau. She pointed to the covered patio off the gym floor, and he followed her out.
She mouthed Zendaris.
“Okay. I’m ready for the next step if you are.”
Zendaris paused. “What are you talking about?”
“I want to talk to my son. You showed me the picture, and I killed Herndon for you. Now I want to talk to him.”
“He’s a toddler. He doesn’t talk much.”
Anger thumped against the back of her head and she took a deep breath. “He’s my son. I want to hear his voice.”
“I have a son, too, Deb. Prospero knows that now after capturing my children’s nanny.”
“You mean the nanny you left for dead? Yes, we know you have a son and a daughter.” She’d appeal to his fatherly instincts but he probably didn’t have any. “So you know two-year-olds can talk, and I want to talk to mine.”
Beau was nodding encouragement.
Zendaris gave an exaggerated sigh. “You’re getting to be more trouble than you’re worth.”
“I won’t do one more task until I speak to my son.”
“I’ll arrange it, but once I do you’re mine.”
“I’ll do your dirty work because you have my son, but I’ll never be yours.”
* * *
WHILE DEB TOOK a shower, Beau clicked on the TV to see if there were any more news stories about Dr. Herndon’s death, but the local news wasn’t on yet and the story wasn’t big enough for the national news channel to carry it.
He’d been proud of Deb today. She seemed to be getting her spine back, although he couldn’t fault her for losing it in the first place. Even if one of his nieces or nephews had been snatched, he would’ve gone nuts.
Deb must really like kids. She’d probably like more than one. She seemed really interested in the pictures of his family. He must’ve come across as a real jerk the night they’d met if she believed he took his family for granted. Nothing could be further from the truth.
Had he gotten his taste for thrills and chills out of his system? He’d experienced more than a lifetime of them, enough to write three books. But the woman he settled with would have to be special—just that right mix of independence and femininity. He hadn’t met her yet.
Until that night in Zurich when he’d seen Deb down the length of that bar.
For the longest time, he’d convinced himself it was all about the great sex, the hot chemistry between them. But he’d come to realize Deb possessed all the qualities necessary to lure him in like a magnet. Spending time with her again, even under these circumstances or maybe especially under these circumstances, reinforced his belief that she had something unique, some combination of traits and beliefs that matched up with his.
Could he let her go after this assignment?
His laptop in the corner beeped, and he strolled to it and hit a key to wake it up.
The search for the identity of the man at the bookstore had concluded and a file had been deposited on his desktop.
He double-clicked on the file, and a document popped open containing pictures and corresponding text—a who’s who of bad guys.
A sweet scent wafted from behind and he cranked his head over his shoulder to take in Deb massaging lotion into her hands.
“Is the search program done?”
“Yep. Returned quite a few possibilities for our bookstore patron.”
“Can we look now, or did you want to get something to eat first?”
“The sandwich I grabbed on the way up to the room is enough.” He spun the laptop toward her and pulled up the other chair. “Let’s have a look.”
They scanned through several faces, reading their criminal bios and taking a few notes on the hotel stationery.
“Anyone look familiar?”
“Prospero has had our sights on a few of these people, so I’m going to eliminate those guys right now. Nobody we looked at had ties to Zendaris. Has to be someone off our radar.”
After an hour and a half, they’d narrowed their search down to five men—all the size and shape of the man at the bookstore.
Beau tapped the screen. “I’m going to do some more research on these guys. If we can locate our man, there’s no telling what we’ll discover.”
“Like where they’re holding Bobby.”
“Exactly.” He accessed another classified database and fed information on their five suspects into it.
Deb sat on the bed, crossing her legs beneath her. “Aren’t some alarm bells going to go off somewhere when you input data into those systems?”
“Definitely.”
“Will the usage be tracked back to you?”
“I have an excuse. I’m on assignment, so while someone may be tracking my search criteria in these databases, it shouldn’t raise any suspicions. I use these all the time. What’s the difference now?”
“The difference is you’ve gone to the dark side. You’ve joined forces with your prey.”
He hit the final key and stood up to stretch. “As far as anyone knows, I’m still tracking a suspected rogue Prospero agent.”
“I hope so.” She plucked at the bedspread with nervous fingers. “Dinner in the hotel again or room service?”
“I’m sick of this hotel. Let’s go out.”
“Disguises?”
“Not the brunette from last night and not the blonde from the jewelry store. It seems that every identity you have gets into trouble. You’re better off with your natural hair color.”
“I was no brunette last night—that was more mistress of the dark.”
“Boston P.D.’s looking for mistress of the dark now, so you’d better not bring her back.”
The phone that Deb kept by her side buzzed, and her face paled just like it did every time a call or text came through. This time it was a call.
She licked her lips and answered it.
As always, she put it on speaker, and a gruff voice scratched over the line. “You ready for the kid?”
At least they knew Zendaris was probably not holding Bobby himself. Beau pressed the record button on his mini recorder.
Deb’s voice, strong and sure, answered, “Yes.”
More shuffling and scratching came over the line and the man’s voice barked, “He’s listening.”
“Bobby? Bobby, is that you? It’s Mommy.”
A child’s voice responded, “Mommy?”
“Are you okay, Bobby? Mommy misses you and will see you soon.”
“Mommy, I wanna go home.”
Deb squeezed her eyes shut and Beau had a strong urge to take her pain away.
“You will. Soon, Bobby. Are you getting enough to eat?”
“Ice cream.”
“You’re eating ice cream?” She rolled her eyes at Beau.
“’Cuz my throat hurts. I’m tired.”
“Bobby, are you sick?”
“Throat hurts. Bye, Mommy.”
“Bobby? Bobby?”
“He’s done. Kids this age don’t talk much.”
Deb had slid to the floor with her back leaning against the bed. “Is he sick? He said he had a sore throat and that he was tired.”
“Seems okay to me. I ain’t a babysitter.”
“Oh, yes, you are.” Deb staggered to her feet and marched across the room. “You listen to me. You have my son. You took him, and if anything happens to him, your boss won’t get one more thing out of me except a bullet to the head. Now, I’m going to ask you again. Is my son sick?”
The man coughed. “He see
ms okay. He’s tired a lot and started whining about his throat so I gave him some ice cream. Look, you talked to him and now I gotta go. We’ll be in touch.”
When the man ended the call, Deb threw the phone at the bed. “Bobby didn’t sound good.”
“Maybe he’s just tired and sleeping a lot because he’s cooped up with that guy. They’re probably not taking him out to play or letting him get any exercise.” He walked to the bed and retrieved the phone. Deb needed this thing in working order.
“The important thing is—” he crossed the room and took her hands “—you spoke to him and he’s alive.”
“You’re right. What do you think they’ve told him?”
He gathered her hands and held them against his chest. “That’s another thing. They’re not going to be mean to him or freak him out. They want a calm kid on their hands, or at least as calm as they can get him keeping him away from his mother. The ice cream is a good sign. They’re trying to make him happy.”
She chewed on her bottom lip but left her hands in his. “The sore throat worries me. He had that before...before he was kidnapped. That’s why I took him to the doctor.”
“Maybe it’s just the flu. It’s that time of year.”
“The sooner I get him home, the better.”
“In the meantime, I’m here to take care of his mom, and she needs more than ice cream, too. So let’s go out and get dinner like we planned.”
“I wish he had told me what they want from me next. I just want to get through this. I’m tired of his games.”
“He’ll tell you soon enough. Dinner—we have something to celebrate. You talked to Bobby for the first time since he was taken, proving that Zendaris needs you as much as you need him.”
“Okay, dinner, but nothing fancy. I wore my only fancy dress last night, and that didn’t go so well.”
“Not for Dr. Herndon, but it couldn’t have worked out better for you.”
Hunching her shoulders, she pulled her hands away from his grasp. “Ugh, I don’t like thinking about it that way. Some of his blood spattered on my dress, you know.”
“If more than one person wanted Herndon dead, he didn’t stand a chance, whether he’d danced with you or not.”
“I know you’re right.” She scooped her hair back from her makeup-free face. “Since I had Bobby, I haven’t been doing a lot of the heavy lifting for Prospero. I’m not used to these assignments anymore—the violence, the car chases, the dead bodies. I’ve been doing more analysis than fieldwork.”
“I don’t know that you ever get used to someone dropping dead in front of you.”
“I’m glad it’s not just a girl thing.”
“Not.” He slid his jacket from a hanger in the closet. “And we are going casual—lobster place outside of town, pick up your own food at the counter, sawdust on the floor.”
“That sounds about right.”
They took a taxi to the restaurant. Beau didn’t think Zendaris was having Deb followed, but that didn’t mean they had to drive around in the car he’d provided her.
They joined the long line of customers waiting to place their orders and both picked out a couple of lobsters, some fried clams and coleslaw. They took their bottles of beer to a table and waited for their feasts to be delivered.
Beau had been worried that the call from Bobby would sink Deb into a depression, but she seemed revitalized—ready to take on Zendaris instead of cowering from him.
Beau had finished half his beer by the time their food was delivered to their table.
Deb’s eyes widened when the server plopped the plate on the picnic table in front of her. “I may be in over my head here.”
“That lobster may look big but you’ll have to work to get to all his good parts.”
“Its good parts.” She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t refer to it as a he.”
Beau laughed and cracked open the first claw. He dug out the succulent meat and drenched it in drawn butter. When he placed it on his tongue, it almost melted. He closed his eyes. “Mmm.”
“I think you have it right. Do the hard work first, and then when you’re tired out eat the easy stuff.”
He helped her crack her lobster, but being Deb, she insisted on taking over and doing it herself. He’d want a wife like that—someone independent, not clingy.
Not that he was thinking about a wife. His gaze shifted to Deb licking melted butter from her fingers. Not even one like this. At least not now. Or maybe ever.
“What?” She covered her face with a greasy paper napkin. “Is that gross?”
“Is what gross?”
“Licking my fingers.”
“Not. At. All. You can lick anything you like.” He sucked on an empty claw to discourage the wicked grin forming on his face.
She pointed at him with her little sharp fork, a piece of lobster still hanging from the end. “That’s Loki right there. That look. You must’ve had women across the world tossing their panties in the air with that look.”
He choked and a quantity of beer fizzed through his nose. “Is that why you think I got into this business?”
“I know that played a role in my Prospero teammate, Gage’s, decision.”
“Gage Booker, the senator’s son?” He took another swig of beer, managing to swallow this one. “That’s because he’s a suave, smooth-talking SOB.”
“And you’re...”
“Not.”
“Right.” She popped a fried clam into her mouth and puckered her lips as she chewed.
Beau never realized eating greasy seafood could be so erotic, although he should’ve known better. The very first meal they’d shared together had wound up all over their naked bodies.
He tapped his empty beer bottle. “Do you want another? We’re taking a taxi home, and I don’t think Zendaris is going to contact you tonight.”
Her face grew still and she dropped a clam that had been making its way to her mouth back into her plate. “No, I’d better not.”
He could’ve kicked himself for bringing up Zendaris just when she’d seemed to relax a little. “Bobby’s okay, Deb. Having another beer is not going to make a difference in how fast we get him back.”
“It feels wrong.” She crumpled up her napkin and tossed it into the silver bucket brimming with lobster shells.
“I know it does, and I’m not trying to make you forget about Bobby’s predicament, but being a nervous wreck is not going to help him.”
“It’s a more appropriate response than noshing on lobster and guzzling beer.”
“You’re not guzzling beer.” He leaned forward and dabbed a spot of butter from the corner of her mouth. “Reclaiming your strength and confidence has helped him and will help him. You talked to him for the first time. That had to make him feel better.”
“Him and me both, but I think I’ll skip the second beer. You go ahead though.”
A phone vibrated and Deb jumped. “Is that mine?”
“I think it’s mine.” Beau felt his pocket, his fingers brushing his buzzing phone. He pulled it out and checked the display. His heart lurched. Jack.
“I’m going to take this call outside. Can you get me another beer?”
Her green eyes glittered in her pale face. “Business?”
“Different business.” He lied as smoothly as he would to any quarry he was tracking.
He scuffed through the sawdust on the floor, and pushed through the restaurant’s side door to an empty porch. If Jack was calling instead of texting, it had to be important.
“Loki. What’s the problem, Jack?”
“You are.”
Beau’s nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed as he watched Deb through the window pick up a beer at the counter. Looked like he was going to need it.
“What do yo
u mean?”
“Cut the bull, Loki. We know all about you and Deb. You’re off the case.”
Chapter Ten
Maybe just one sip.
Deb tilted Beau’s bottle of beer to her lips. The earthy taste of hops and grains filled her mouth and bubbled against her tongue.
Beau was right. She had to stay strong for Bobby. She couldn’t turn into that spineless pile of rags she’d been when she’d first discovered his kidnapping. Her weakness had wasted valuable time and caused missed opportunities.
Who knew how much detail she’d ignored from that first phone call, from the daycare worker’s information?
Swiveling her head, she picked out Beau on the side porch of the restaurant. He had his back to the window, but the set of his shoulders and the stiffness of his back screamed out argument.
If that was a business call, business wasn’t so good.
Suspicion flared in her gut. Those old feelings and instincts that had vanished the past week were creeping back into her consciousness.
If Beau wanted her to feel empowered, so be it.
She slammed the bottle on the table and pushed to her feet. The soles of her tennis shoes kicked up sawdust on their way to the porch. She eased open the door and held her breath.
She couldn’t catch any of Beau’s words, but his tone was unmistakable.
She took one step onto the porch, and he spun around, gripping his phone in one hand like a weapon. His ferocity tumbled from him in waves, encompassing her and making her knees tremble. Amid all the talk of families and children and the sexual teasing, she’d almost forgotten who he was.
“Eavesdropping?”
The word hung between them, creating a veil of mistrust on both sides.
“Are you worried about what I might’ve discovered if I had been?”
He dipped his head and rested his forehead against one end of the phone. “The game’s up, Deb.”
Her heart fluttered and her knees practically wobbled. Had Zendaris discovered the truth about the murder? “What game?”
“The game I’ve been playing with Prospero.”
Her knees crumpled, but she managed to fold onto a cold bench. She crossed her arms and tucked her hands under her armpits. “Wh-what does that mean, exactly? Do they know you’ve been working with me?”
Harlequin Intrigue November 2013 - Bundle 2 of 2 Page 30