Harlequin Intrigue November 2013 - Bundle 2 of 2

by Carla Cassidy

  “Look at this.” Beau jabbed at the display. “Didn’t one of your guys track Zendaris down to a house in Colombia recently?”

  “Gage Booker. He raided his compound down there, although Zendaris had already fled. That’s where he found the nanny.”

  “This guy, Damon, was in Colombia recently. We can say with a fair amount of certainty that this man is in Zendaris’s employ, and he’s the one who left the invitation for you.”

  “It helps getting an ID and confirmation that he’s Zendaris’s man. Now if we could just see him again, we could follow him or get a jump on him.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Good job, Beau.” She touched him awkwardly on the shoulder and then snatched her hand back. “I think I’ll watch TV for a bit and then, um, did you want to get something to eat?”

  Squinting, he brought his face close to the laptop where he’d brought up another document. “I think it’s best if we eat in the room. We may have identified Damon here, but we still don’t know the driver of the SUV yesterday.”

  “You’re right.” She backed up to the bed and sat up against the pillows against the headboard while she clicked on the TV. “Is the TV too loud?”

  “No.”

  The hotel maid had done a good job of swapping out the sheets and making the bed, erasing all evidence of the passionate sex she and Beau had shared here less than twenty-four hours ago. Her clumsy declaration to Beau that he was Bobby’s father had done a good job of erasing the rest.

  She scanned through the channels, skipping over the local evening news. She didn’t need to add to her depression anymore.

  She stopped the channel at a cartoon with a silly sponge and a dumb-as-rocks starfish—one of Bobby’s favorites. She giggled at their antics.

  Several minutes later, Beau tilted his chair back to get a view of the TV. “What are you watching?”

  “A cartoon—the sponge guy is trying to raise money with a singing contest, and his friend, the starfish, wants to enter but he’s just so bad.” She laughed again as Beau raised his brows. “I guess it’s funnier when you know the characters.”

  “You know these characters?”

  “Heck, yeah.”

  “Does Bobby watch this cartoon?”

  “It’s one of his favorites. That’s their friend. He’s an uptight squid.”

  Beau watched the cartoon through two commercial breaks, studying it as closely as he’d been perusing those documents on the laptop. Then he shook his head and resumed his research on the computer.

  When the show ended, Deb flipped over to some comedy show rerun and dropped the remote on the bed. “Do you want me to order dinner?”

  “Sure.” He reached across the laptop and flipped open the room service menu. “Get me the steak, no potato, extra asparagus instead. Have them send up a pitcher of iced tea, too.”

  He tossed the menu at the bed and she dove for it before it hit the floor. She ran her finger down the columns of food.

  Beau stretched and grabbed the handle of the balcony door. “You should get the...never mind.”

  He slid open the door and stepped outside. Leaning over, he folded his arms across the flat wooden barrier around the porch.

  Deb picked up the phone and ordered a steak for herself, too. She wanted to match Beau stride for stride tonight. She didn’t want him accusing her of holding them back. Of course, for that accusation, there’d have to be some passion involved and right now Beau was treating her like a casual stranger.

  She studied him through the sliding door. The wind ruffled his short hair, and his strong profile stood out against the blue sky.

  Was he thinking about their plan tonight or was he thinking about Bobby? Maybe he was thinking about both because if the mission didn’t work out, he may never get the opportunity to meet his son.

  Stop. She covered her mouth with her fist, biting into her knuckle. She couldn’t think that way. It was counter-productive and flew in the face of everything Prospero had taught her. The mission had to succeed. There was no room for failure. There was no other outcome.

  He stayed on the balcony until the food arrived. When the knock came on the door, he stepped into the room and retrieved his weapon from beneath the bed.

  He used the same M.O. as he had a few nights ago. When he peeled his eye away from the peephole, he opened the door and rolled the cart into the room.

  Instead of laying out their food on the table for the two of them, he took his own plate from the cart and brought it to the table where the computer sat.

  She got it. He didn’t want to eat with her. He could barely look at her.

  She dragged the cart toward the bed, poured a glass of iced tea from the pitcher and placed it at his elbow.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Then she plopped onto the bed and ate her steak from the cart. She didn’t even like steak, but figured it would please Beau to eat what he was eating to prepare for the mission. Fat lot of good it did her.

  She should’ve figured out two years ago that it would’ve pleased Beau if she’d told him they had a son together.

  Beau shoved his half-eaten steak to the side of the table and leaned over to hoist the pitcher from the cart. “More tea?”

  “No, thanks.”

  The brown liquid streamed into his glass, and the tinkling ice was the only sound breaking the silence between them. Facing the cops, a security system and a rottweiler at Herndon’s house would be preferable to the strained atmosphere in this room.

  Beau stirred some sugar into his tea and took a long drink, draining half the glass. “I have a black jacket you can wear and a black wool cap.”

  “Okay.”

  “We’ll try the entrance we discussed first, and if there’s a problem there we go around the back to our second option. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.”

  “The most likely place for these plans in a house would be a safe. We’ll search for a safe first. If there are any laptops in the house, we’ll take them.”

  “Good idea.”

  “Once the police determine foul play in Herndon’s death, they’ll be all over his house. They may have already taken his computers.”

  “You’re right.”

  “Deb.” He plowed his fingers through his hair. “I don’t need a yes-man. I need someone to bounce ideas off. I need someone to challenge and correct me.”

  She dropped her fork on her plate. “I just want to make it up to you, Beau.”

  “Ordering steak and saying yes to everything I throw out there is not going to make up for keeping my son a secret from me.”

  “I’m trying. I just want to explain...”

  He sliced a finger across his throat. “Save it. I already told you I’m going to help Bobby, right now—tonight, and when he comes home by donating my blood or whatever else he needs. I’ll be there for him. You don’t need to worry about that.”

  Would he be there for her, too? Somehow, looking into his frosty blue eyes, she didn’t think so. It had to be enough that he’d be a part of Bobby’s life.

  “Thanks. He’s a wonderful little boy.”

  “And stop thanking me. It’s what any father would do for his child.”

  “Not necessarily.” She stabbed her fork into the steak.

  His tone softened. “It’s what this father would do.”

  She shoved the cart out of her way and brushed past Beau. Hovering over the laptop, she said, “What are we going to do if the neighbor on this side of Herndon’s property has security lights? And are we going to search together or split up? Together is safer—apart is faster.”

  He joined her at the computer, careful not to touch her as if she had cooties.

  She tried not to inhale his scent, tried n
ot to notice his strong hands hovering over the keyboard.

  Nodding, he said, “That’s what I need from you.”

  And I need so much more from you.

  A few hours later, they were ready to roll.

  They’d packed their equipment in a backpack and stashed it in the trunk of Deb’s car—the car Zendaris had provided for her getaway. The drive out to Herndon’s house took just over thirty minutes.

  Beau cruised past the house first. The leafy suburb provided some generous space between the houses.

  Deb said, “At least the houses aren’t right on top of each other. I don’t think any neighbor casually looking out his window is going to see us breaking into Herndon’s place.”

  “Or going to hear a breaking window.”

  “They will hear an alarm, though, so we’d better make sure that system is deactivated.”

  Beau parked the car around the corner. “Are you ready to make a run for it if we have to?”

  “Didn’t I tell you I used to run track in high school?”

  “You told me you used to run from the cops in high school.”

  “That’s why I was so good at track.” She winked and coaxed one small quirk of the lips out of him. That was the first thing remotely related to a smile she’d seen since she’d told him the news about Bobby.

  Beau pulled the pack out of the backseat and hung it over one arm as he exited the car. Deb followed, easing her door shut. A dog barked in the distance but not because he’d heard any slamming car doors.

  The soles of their tennis shoes whispered on the bare pavement. If this had been fall instead of winter, multicolored leaves would be crunching beneath their feet. Occasionally, a brown leaf skittered across the road.

  Deb had tucked her hair into the cap and had zipped Beau’s jacket up to her chin. If anyone did spot her, they’d see a floating white oval in the black of night.

  They reached Herndon’s house and crept along the side of the front lawn. They located the low window on the side of the house that led to a back bedroom in the house.

  Beau fished a glass-cutting tool and suction cup from his bag and sliced a neat square at the top of the window near the lock. He attached the suction cup to the glass and pulled, removing the glass with no muss and no fuss.

  Deb whispered, “You could be a cat burglar.”

  He reached into the space with his long fingers and flicked the lock. “Now let’s just hope he hasn’t further secured the window with a bolt.”

  He pushed on the window sash and after a little resistance, it slid up.

  As planned, Deb hoisted herself through the window, flicked on her penlight and sailed through the sparsely furnished bedroom. She turned to the left, located the mudroom and unlocked the door.

  When Beau appeared out of the darkness, she jumped, banging her elbow on the washing machine.

  “Careful.” He steadied her by placing a hand on her back. “Let’s find his office first, check for computers and safes, and then look for other likely locations for safes.”

  “The room I entered looked like a spare bedroom. We can skip that one.”

  The beam of his flashlight led the way out of the mudroom and back to the hallway. They poked their heads into the other rooms off the hallway, but Herndon had used them all as bedrooms. A smaller room off the living room contained a desk and shelves crammed with books and binders.

  “Bingo.” Beau swept the room with his flashlight.

  A computer monitor sat on the desk, but cables dangled where it would have been attached to a CPU.

  Deb pointed at the tangled cables. “Do you think the cops took that?”

  “Herndon died two days ago. It’s probably going to take the cops a little longer to get the approval to search his premises.”

  “Maybe he sent it out for repair or didn’t even use it.” She scanned the desk. “Is there a laptop instead?”

  “Nothing. There’s no computer in this office.”

  They rifled through the desk drawers, which Herndon hadn’t bothered to lock. They checked in the small closet, but Herndon’s messy office held no secrets.

  Beau asked, “You okay to fan out?”

  “I’ll backtrack to his bedroom, and you can take the front of the house. I saw some paintings in the living room—perfect place for a wall safe.”

  “Whistle if you find something.”

  Deb sidled along the hallway, trailing one hand along the wall. She skipped the two spare bedrooms and headed straight for Herndon’s private lair.

  She went for the closet first and shoved aside the Oxford shirts and tweed jackets to search the floor of the closet. Shoes took up most of the space on one side and boxes of papers and awards on the other. He could’ve buried the plans under this meaningless stuff to throw off any potential thieves. Thick dust coated her fingers where she’d moved the boxes, so it didn’t seem likely he’d hidden something here in the past several months.

  She sat back on her heels, wiping the grime from her gloved fingers on the carpet. Dr. Herndon wouldn’t mind now.

  Her gaze skimmed the small pictures on the walls, too small to conceal a wall safe. She checked anyway.

  The king-size bed dominated the room with its four posts and deep blue bedspread. It figured, since Dr. Herndon had been quite the ladies’ man. He’d probably had his share of young, eager female students in this room.

  A flat-screen TV faced the bed, and surround-sound speakers stared down from each corner of the room. He even had a small refrigerator tucked into a credenza with glasses lining the shelf.

  Ducking down, she swung open the fridge and two bottles of wine clinked together. She stared at the books on the nightstand with headphones hooked over the drawer. He’d spent a lot of time in this room.

  She dropped to her hands and knees. Robert had stored lots of stuff beneath his bed—even cash—said he trusted his bed more than a bank. Deb crawled to the bed and flipped up the bedspread. She reached for a long case and knew before she unzipped it she’d find a rifle.

  A wooden box was cozied up next to the edge of the nightstand and she pulled it toward her. The small lock that secured it was child’s play for her knife. She flipped up the lid and gasped.

  Explicit photos of women in varying stages of bondage littered the top layer of the box. She shuffled them to the side and curled her fingers around the papers beneath.

  The footfall on the carpet behind her caused prickles to run across the back of her neck. She held her breath, waiting to hear Beau’s low, sexy voice.

  She didn’t.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Get your hand away from the knife and move to the left, Agent Sinclair.”

  Beau drew back from the door. The man holding Deb at gunpoint obviously had no idea Deb had company in the house. Good.

  The man blocked Beau’s view of Deb, but he heard a rustling noise. She’d better not try anything stupid like go for her knife.

  Beau took one silent, stealthy step to the right to line up behind the guy. While their unwelcome visitor was giving some other instruction to Deb, Beau was at his back in two long strides.

  With one hand he gripped the back of the man’s neck, squeezing with all his strength. With the other he knocked his gun hand to the ceiling.

  The man didn’t even get a shot off. He dropped to his knees, the gun falling from his hand.

  Deb lunged for her knife and jumped to her feet. She kicked the gun away from the man’s reach.

  He wouldn’t be needing it anyway.

  Beau hoisted the backpack over his shoulder and snatched the gun from the floor. “Let’s get out of here. Now.”

  “Is he dead? Did you break his neck?”

  “With my fingers?” He snorted. “I cut off the blood flow through his car
otid artery. He’s out, but he’ll be coming to soon, and this one usually works with a partner.”

  “You know him?” The whites of her wide eyes shined in the dark.

  “Yes. Now move.”

  They crawled out through a different window in case someone was watching the mudroom door or the broken side window. When they hit the ground, they did an army crawl away from Herndon’s property.

  Grass, leaves and dirt clung to Beau’s clothes as he crawled after Deb, silently urging her on. She’d been the complete professional all night. The atmosphere had been tense between them, but she’d never lost her focus.

  He couldn’t say the same for himself. Bobby weighed heavy on his mind all night—his son. What if his immune deficiency disease got the better of him before they could rescue him? What if he never got to meet him? After the failure of tonight, that possibility was too real to contemplate.

  Ever since Deb broke the news to him, he’d wanted to see his son’s picture again but he was too proud to ask. Or too stupid. He wanted to know everything about him. Now the only way he might know Bobby was through secondhand accounts.

  No. He couldn’t let that happen.

  They found themselves in the backyard of the next property. This one hugged the corner lot, and if they got through the rest of this yard they’d be close to the car.

  Deb had figured out the same thing. She twisted her head around and pointed to the side.

  The tangle of foliage finally ended at the edge of a manicured lawn. They continued their crawl across the dew-soaked grass and skirted the brick patio. A wooden fence separated the yard from the street and they hopped it, landing on the dirt path that passed for a sidewalk in this area.

  The car was waiting for them, unmolested. Beau didn’t want to alert anyone along the street, so he held off on using the remote until they got to the doors. They slid inside and he tossed the pack into the backseat. Without turning on the headlights, he started the car and shot off down the road.

  They didn’t speak for several minutes, their panting filling the car, steam rising from their bodies.

  Beau hurtled toward the freeway, careening along the on-ramp. A few cars whizzed past them, but nobody else had gotten on the freeway where they did.