“Not quite. It’s not as bad as that.”
She scooted further onto the bench before she slipped off and gulped in a few lungfuls of cold air. “Get to the point, Beau.”
“Jack found out about us.” He smacked the phone against his palm. “Somehow he discovered we’d met before, had spent the night together.”
“Okay.” She released her breath in small spurts where it formed gusts of fog in the air. “Did he mention how he found out?”
His brows jumped to his hairline. “Why does that matter? He’s Jack Coburn, that’s how he found out.”
It mattered because the only people she’d told about that night were her brothers in arms—Cade, J.D. and Gage. If they’d ratted on her to Jack, it meant they no longer had her back. It meant they believed the worst of her.
“It doesn’t.” She shook her head and drew her hand across her mouth. “What’s the upshot? Why were you arguing with Jack?”
“Did you hear any of that?”
“Just the tone of your voice, your stance, the way you turned on me when you heard my approach.”
“Sorry.” He ran a hand through his hair. “He’s taking me off the case, Deb.”
“He told you that?”
“When Dr. Herndon was murdered, he figured there had to be some connection between his death and you and Zendaris. He wondered why I hadn’t made the connection, and then he found out about our connection.”
“Does he know you’re helping me?”
“I don’t think so. If he suspects it, he didn’t accuse me of it. If he believes you turned, he’d have to believe it of me, too.”
“What next, Beau?” She shoved her hands beneath her bouncing legs, not wanting to hear his answer.
“He’s putting someone else on the job.”
She jumped up and stalked to the end of the porch and then swung around. “That’s just great. I have Zendaris yanking my strings like a puppet master, some shadow spy after the same thing I’m after, and now some hired spook coming after me—one I didn’t happen to share a hot night with. And Bobby’s still being held captive.”
If she hadn’t just vowed to man-up and start acting like a Prospero agent, she’d cry.
“And me.”
“Huh?” That’s the only word she could manage to squeeze past her tight throat.
He hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans and drew back his shoulders. “You have me.”
Those were the sweetest three words she’d heard all night. She threw herself against his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist. “You don’t know how good that makes me feel.”
He stroked her hair, and just like that she didn’t feel like crying anymore. They’d formed a team, and with their combined experiences and resources, they’d be unbeatable.
She lifted her cheek from his chest and parked her head beneath his chin. “You don’t think Jack would send one of my Team Three members after me, do you?”
“No way.” Cupping her jaw, he tilted up her head. “He knows how strong that bond is. He knows their first loyalty is to you.”
“But not if I broke that trust. That’s what he thinks, isn’t it? Maybe that’s what they think, too.”
“Is that what you’d believe of them?” He traced her outer ear with the pad of his thumb. “Would you naturally assume one of your team members had gone to the other side just because your boss told you he had?”
Pressing her lips together, she shook her head from side to side. “No. I’d never believe that of any of them.”
“And I’m sure they feel the same way about you. I may be an independent contractor now, a lone wolf, but I experienced that same bond when I was active duty. Jack Coburn is not going to send one of your own after you.”
“Then we’re safe.”
“Don’t be too confident. There are some good people out there, and Jack knows all of them. I found you, and it wasn’t hard.”
One of her shoulders rose and fell. “You’re Loki.”
“Yeah, well, Loki may have just ruined his reputation.” He hung an arm around her shoulder and nudged her toward the door and light and people and warmth.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Jack was right—any gun for hire who could be deterred by a pretty face and a one-night stand might want to look into retirement.”
“Jack said that?”
“Something like it. You know Jack—a man of few words.”
The warm room sucked them in, and they wandered back to their table hand in hand. “I’m going to have another beer after all.”
“Why not celebrate? The charade is up and I don’t have to go on lying to Prospero. I hate lying to my friends, anyway.”
Deb dropped her lashes over her eyes and reached for Beau’s bottle of warm beer. “Do you want a fresh one?”
“Absolutely, but let me get them this time.”
He rose from the table and sauntered to the counter, way too relaxed for a man who’d just been fired.
She hated lying, too. She had to find a way to tell Beau he was Bobby’s father. She’d have to wait until she had Bobby safely home and in her arms though. Beau’s worry for Bobby stemmed from his concern for all children and maybe, just maybe, his feelings for her. If she told him about Bobby before they rescued him, his emotions would cloud the mission.
He’d be even more worried about Bobby if he knew he was his own...wouldn’t he? At the very least Beau’s anger toward her and her deception might compromise the entire plan.
She’d wait.
He returned, carrying two sweating bottles. “They replaced my warm beer for free. We’ve gotta come back here when this is all over.”
She smiled while she took a sip of her beer. She wanted nothing more than to come back and eat lobsters with Beau and Bobby as a family. But Beau didn’t want a family.
And he hated liars.
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING, Deb woke up heavy-eyed. Beau had gone to the gym early, letting her sleep in. She had to make up for the sleep she’d missed during the night. The sleep she’d missed tossing and turning and being tuned in to every little movement from the bed next to hers.
Several times, she’d imagined that Beau was leaving his bed for hers. She’d lie still and wait for his touch, wait for his masculine scent to wash over her, wait for his whispered words of want and need.
She’d waited all night long.
By the time morning rolled in, her muscles ached, she could barely move her stiff neck and a foul mood hovered over her like a miasma.
Beau had seen the writing on the wall almost immediately and taken off for the gym, telling her to get some more sleep.
The extra hours of sleep hadn’t done much for her sore muscles and stiff neck, which she attributed to her workout yesterday. But sleep had softened her mood.
She had nobody to blame but herself that Beau hadn’t made any moves on her. She’d made it clear the first night he’d tracked her down that her worry and desperation as a mother had shut down the spigot of sexual need and desire.
What had changed?
Every time she fantasized about Beau, black clouds of guilt would rush in on the heels of the fantasy. She’d mentally berate herself for thinking about her own desires while her little boy was being held hostage somewhere.
But it was more than sex she craved from Beau. She longed for that human connection that had been missing from her life for so long. She thirsted for the comfort and completeness of making love with a man, especially this man, the father of her beloved child.
To form that bond with Beau again would be to complete the circle of their family. She’d begun to feel as if there were some mystical power in making that connection, as if that family bond could clear a path to finding and rescuing Bo
bby.
Beau’s laptop beeped in the corner. She eyed it but decided against mucking around with his databases and search engines.
She yawned and stretched. She could use some juice and coffee but after the lobster and fried clams and beers last night, she couldn’t face another morsel of food.
Deb rolled out of bed and stumbled into the shower. The warm water and fragrant steam did nothing to wake her up, so she twisted the dial in the other direction. As the cool water hit her back, her teeth chattered and sent a wave of goose bumps across her body. That’s what she needed.
She dressed in the same old jeans but swapped the T-shirt she’d worn yesterday for a fresh one.
If Zendaris kept her on the line much longer, she’d need to hit the mall again.
The door clicked and Beau poked his head into the room. “Is everyone decent?”
“If you can call these dirty jeans and T-shirt decent, then I guess I qualify.”
He placed a cup of coffee on the table and held up a paper bag. “I figured you’d sleep through breakfast, so I picked up a coffee and a couple of scones for you.”
“Thanks.” She waved her toothbrush at his laptop. “Your computer beeped while you were gone, but I didn’t want to mess up anything.”
“Maybe my sources found something on our guy.” He pulled a scone from the bag and bit off the corner.
“I thought those were for me.” She took in his damp T-shirt clinging to his chest and the sweatshirt he’d thrown over the back of the chair. “Where have you been anyway? Since when does the hotel gym have scones and coffee?”
“I took a run along the river. I couldn’t take the treadmill in the gym—too boring.”
“No suspicious activity out there? No one lurking around the hotel?”
“Do you think my replacement is going to find you that fast?” He brushed the crumbs from the table into his palm.
“I don’t think your replacement is going to find me at all.” She joined him at the table, where he’d pressed a few keys on the laptop, and took a sip of her coffee. “Now that you’re a disgraced spy, is someone going to bust you for accessing top secret databases?”
“How fast do you think Jack works? He just fired me last night. I doubt if the entire intelligence community knows.” He rubbed his hands together as lines of data scrolled down the screen. “I’m not persona non grata yet.”
He pulled up a chair and nodded to the other one. “Have a seat and start eating that other scone before I demolish that one, too.”
She sat down next to him and plunged her fingers into the white bag. She broke off a piece of the crumbly scone and popped it into her mouth. “Can you make anything out of all that?”
Beau was running his finger down the monitor, stopping occasionally to jab at a piece of information as if prodding it to give him more.
“Look at this guy, Deb.” He scrolled up the screen to one of the pictures they’d matched before. “He’s known as Damon. He’s a South American, has been involved with the drug cartels down there. He dropped off the radar a few years ago, but still has his contacts so he’s not out of the game. But which game?”
“No more drugs?” She stared into the dark beady eyes of the man, hoping for some recognition.
“He hasn’t been connected to the drug trade for a few years. Maybe he switched to weapons. His drug connections would be handy for Zendaris.”
“Specialties?”
“Weapons. Surveillance. He’s also the muscle.”
“He has enough of them.” She bit off another piece of scone and covered her mouth when she talked. “If he’s our man, it would be great to have at least one face to pick out in a crowd.”
“Exactly. I know I could recognize him again. Who knows where he’d take us if we followed him?”
“He could take us to Bobby.”
“And that’s the kind of break we need.”
“Any of the others on our short list look good?” She swirled her coffee in the cup before taking another sip.
“Not as good as this guy.”
Crumpling the pastry bag in one hand, Deb rose from the table and tossed the bag in the trash can. She flipped through the free paper the hotel delivered, but Dr. Herndon’s death didn’t warrant a place on the national news scene for the second day running.
“Have you heard anything more about the investigation into Herndon’s death?”
“Nothing. I guess they’re waiting for the autopsy report.”
“And nothing more about the mysterious black-haired seductress?”
“Nope, and since Herndon was single the media isn’t crawling all over that angle.”
“What angle is Jack taking? Does he think I’m responsible?”
“Involved? Yes. Responsible? Jury is still out on that one.”
She carefully refolded the paper along its crease. “What did you say to Jack last night? Why were you arguing with him?”
“He’d just fired me. I was trying my best to talk him out of it.” He kicked his long legs up on the chair she’d just vacated. “I admitted that we’d hooked up years ago but insisted it meant nothing and the news that I’d be tracking you barely registered as a blip on my radar.”
“Ouch. Did he believe you?”
“Whether he believed me or not never came up. Fact is, I withheld information from him. You don’t withhold information from Jack Coburn.”
“I know.” She dropped on the bed. “Look where it got me.”
“Are you sure your best bet all along wasn’t to tell Prospero that Zendaris had kidnapped your son?”
“No.” She stuffed her feet into her tennis shoes. “When someone has your child, your first instinct is to do exactly what they tell you to do.”
“I get that, but it’s not like your team members would jeopardize the safety of your son. They wouldn’t have come in with guns blazing.”
“I just had a feeling that Zendaris would know if I went to Prospero. I don’t know how or why, but that feeling controlled every move I made after Bobby’s kidnapping.”
“He knew enough about your life to have someone pretend to be Robert. I can’t tell you if it was a good move or a bad one to keep Prospero in the dark. You bought yourself some security but opened up some difficulties for yourself. Did you really think your boss wouldn’t notice that you’d dropped out of sight?”
She sighed. “I took a leave of absence. I thought that would be good enough.”
“Well, here we are.”
“Yep.” She tied her shoes and stomped on the carpet.
“Going somewhere? Mind if I tag along?”
She crossed her arms and tilted her head. “Because you want to or because you think I need protection?”
“Does it matter?” He stripped off his T-shirt and dug through the dresser drawer where he’d dumped his purchases. He pulled out a clean T-shirt and the jeans he’d worn over the past few days. “Can you wait while I hop in the shower? I won’t be long.”
“I’ll wait for you.” Her gaze lingered on the wedges of muscle shifting across his chest and shoulders. Could she wait for him while he decided whether or not he wanted to be a father to Bobby?
She’d have to tell him first.
While Beau showered, Deb flipped through the TV channels. Had the untimely death of a scientist already slipped off the news radar? She should be thankful. She didn’t need to have her picture flashed on the news again, although it added credibility to her actions for Zendaris.
And Prospero.
Had her Team Three cohorts recognized her from the grainy photo?
Beau had finished his shower faster than she thought humanly possible. He burst through the bathroom door, fully dressed and toweling his short hair.
At least he was sparing her the sig
ht of his half-clothed body for once. She couldn’t take much more temptation.
“Are you ready?” He rubbed a little gel between his palms and slicked it over his wet hair.
“Are you?” She made a circle with her index finger in his general direction. “I didn’t realize Loki used so much hair product.”
He held up the tube. “This? Just keeps things in order.”
“Got it.” She held up her hands.
“Where are we going?”
“I thought I’d take the T into Boston and follow that red line painted on the sidewalk that goes past all the historical sites. I’ve done it before. It takes you from Boston Common all the way to the USS Constitution in Boston Harbor.”
“Sounds like an all-day adventure.”
“What else do we have to do except wait around for Zendaris’s instructions—and he seems to be taking his sweet time.”
“You’re right, and it’ll take your mind off...things.”
“My mind’s never off Bobby, if that’s what you mean.” Deb zipped up her jacket and pressed her lips together just in case Beau thought a smile meant she’d forgotten about her son...their son.
“Hey.” He pulled her toward him by the edges of her jacket and yanked her zipper up to her chin. “I know that. You don’t have to prove anything. You wouldn’t be contemplating murder and mayhem at Zendaris’s behest if Bobby didn’t mean the world to you.”
“It’s just that sometimes...” Her lip trembled and she bit it.
He wrapped his arms around her and held her flush against his body. His heart beat strong and sure beneath her cheek and she closed her eyes to soak in his strength.
She allowed herself one minute of weakness, and then she pushed away from him. “Okay, let’s get reacquainted with the Revolution.”
They picked up a pamphlet in the Common and followed the red line painted on the sidewalk. When they hit Faneuil Hall, Deb’s stomach grumbled, reminding her of the paltry breakfast she’d consumed in the hotel room—and Beau had stolen half of that.
Beau pointed to the food court. “I’m pretty sure that wasn’t around in 1776, but I’m glad it is now.”
Harlequin Intrigue November 2013 - Bundle 2 of 2 Page 31