“No. I won’t endanger her any further. I’ll come alone.”
“Bring the woman or the deal is off.” The confident sneer in the voice stung Vanessa’s nerves like salt water on sunburn.
Nick sighed in resignation. “How will I know you?”
“That will be no problem. We know you.” A soft click terminated the connection.
Nick lowered the receiver into the phone cradle.
“Nick, please, you didn’t have to do that. I don’t understand.” She rushed to him and gripped his arms, more to support herself than to shake sense into him.
He hugged her to him. “It’s the only way, honey. Don’t you see? I won’t put you in more danger because of my brother. When it’s over, we can figure out what’s real and what isn’t between the two of us.”
The band around her chest cranked in another notch. Real? Oh, my love, is anything in our relationship real? She was afraid that what wasn’t real was genuine illusion.
Simon Byrne and Gabe Harris marched into the sunroom. “What the blazing hell are you up to, Markos?”
Chapter 16
Nick had to convince the ATSA officer his plan would work. He folded his arms and prepared to do battle.
Byrne stood rigid with anger in the middle of the room while the other officer took up a position at the doorway. Was he guarding Nick from danger or preventing him from leaving?
Nick glared at the CO. “You’re worried I’ll really pay them off. I’m not that stupid.”
“Then why bite?”
Nick had worked it out and waited for the New Dawn man to call. “Catching small fish on our hooks has fed you no information. You’re no closer to capturing Husam Al-Din now than you were when his agent killed my brother.”
At his side, Vanessa dropped her gaze to the floor. He could tell she was pondering his assertions.
A scowl pleated Byrne’s forehead. “We’re getting closer.”
“Not close enough or fast enough. A waiting game is futile. And dangerous. Each time they escalate the violence. We have to force the issue.” Before Vanessa is hurt or killed. He cared too much to allow her to continue to be the bait. Even if she was willing.
“What makes you think Husam Al-Din will meet you in person? Or that it was him on the phone, for that matter?” said Harris, the other officer.
“If it’s not the leader, it has to be a lieutenant in the New Dawn organization. Someone Al-Din would trust with ten million dollars. Someone who can give us what we want to know.” Nick waited, breath held, hoping that was enough for the ATSA officer to make the leap.
“Your crazy offer won’t work. Might get you killed,” Byrne said, pacing the room. “And it’s unnecessary.”
“Unnecessary?” Nick raked his fingers through his hair. “Time is winding down. Five days until November 11. If we get Al-Din now, you can avert their attack and prevent deaths.”
The ATSA control officer leaned against the back of the sofa. His assessing gaze drifted from Nick to Vanessa and back. “We can avert the attack anyway.”
“What do you mean?” Vanessa stalked toward her colleague. She stopped halfway there, as if weighing her loyalties. Nick crossed mental fingers.
The man lifted one shoulder and tipped his head apologetically. “I just found out this afternoon. Intelligence has scoped out what New Dawn plans for Veterans Day. The president always lays a wreath at the—”
“Tomb of the Unknowns,” Nick interjected. “Exactly where the voice directed me to deliver the money. Doesn’t that seem too coincidental, too pat?”
Byrne shook his head. “Not from what we know about New Dawn. Relentless but not subtle. They probably see the dual use of that location as symbolic. An ironic joke.”
Vanessa spun toward Nick. Her green eyes pleaded with him. “So you see, you don’t have to endanger yourself after all. When he calls again, you can say you changed your mind.”
God knew Nick would rather skydive without a parachute than be responsible for an op. His instincts and planning had resulted in disaster before.
This time he wouldn’t direct the op. Others would. He wouldn’t hunker safely in the background either. Pretending to pay off Al-Din or his agent would set him square in the sights of a potential crossfire. And Vanessa had to be by his side.
He might have the shakes. Or another flashback. He might freeze. Fear churned his insides.
But he had to do this. He could do it.
Not only for his honor, but for Vanessa.
His gut warned him the Arlington Cemetery location and time were deliberate and calculated. Byrne was wrong about why. Nick just had to work out the connection. Instead of deterring him, the oddity of the so-called coincidence chiseled his decision in stone.
“I’m going through with the fake payoff,” he said. “Will you cover my back or not?”
Nick watched Byrne’s eyes. At first they shone as hard as the diamond stud in one ear. Then the corners softened as he glanced toward the ceiling. He was waffling.
Vanessa returned to Nick, linked an arm with his. “Consider the possibilities, Byrne.”
“You taking his side now?” But his tone seemed more banter than challenge.
She ignored the question and launched into her spiel. “We could shut this terrorist threat down early with no threat to the president or anybody else. At the very least, we’d have another of the terrorists in custody, a higher-up who may really lead to Husam Al-Din.”
“I have the feeling there’s another possibility,” her colleague said.
“What if you’re wrong? What if New Dawn’s plans are for some other venue? For instance, the big parade with dozens of dignitaries. What would General Nolan say if he thought we passed up a chance to head them off at the pass?”
Byrne’s jaw worked on Vanessa’s words as if chewing and digesting them. His expression slid the rest of the way from intransigence to speculation.
Finally he tugged at his studded earlobe. His mouth flirted with a grin. “Wade, I’m damned proud. You’ve picked up my annoying habit of questioning the agency line. Hell of a thing to be in charge for a change and on the other side.”
Nick saw her shoulders relax. “So what do you think?” she said, hope edging her voice.
Byrne folded his arms. “They’ve chosen the timing carefully. Fifteen minutes before sunset blurs the landscape. Surveillance in such a wide-open spot as Arlington National Cemetery means more personnel than I’ve been assigned. They’ve given us three days lead. We’ll have to hustle. If I can get the director’s authorization, it’s a go.”
Her cheeks flushed, and she turned to Nick with triumph brightening her eyes.
Before she could speak, he said to Byrne, “I know you don’t trust me. I’ll wear a mike, do whatever’s necessary for springing the trap.”
“Tomorrow’s Friday. Banks are closed on Saturday,” Vanessa pointed out. “Nick, they’ll be expecting you to go to the bank for the money.”
“Count on it.” Byrne levered away from the sofa. “We’ll hammer out the details after I talk to the director.”
After Byrne and the other officer had left, Vanessa said, “Nick, bringing in Husam Al-Din, ending this operation, isn’t your responsibility. You take too much on yourself.”
“What do you mean? Someone had to do something. Time’s running out.”
“First Somalia. Then your brother. Now this. You shoulder responsibility for problems that aren’t yours, for more than any man should.”
Doubt gripped him. “You think I won’t follow through?”
She shook her head wildly, slapping her French braid back and forth. “No, that’s not what I meant at all. I trust you. But I worry about you, too.”
Nick said, “Thank you for that. I hope I can come through. Your trust means more than anything to me.”
The pulse in her throat throbbed, and her eyes darkened. “And your trust means everything to me.”
To Vanessa’s surprise, General Nolan agreed by Friday morn
ing to the fake payoff. The director trusted Nick no more than Byrne did, so the time crunch was the deciding factor.
Veterans Day was Tuesday, only four days away.
Byrne quickly arranged for the bank’s cooperation. In the afternoon, accompanied by McNair and Harris as his “security,” Nick sauntered into the Chevy Chase Bank with his empty laptop case. A half hour later, the three of them marched out with the case bulging with bundles of newsprint topped with a bundled layer of real hundred-dollar bills.
To any interested observer, the bulge was all cash.
In the afternoon, Vanessa left the rest of the team to craft the net to be spread over the cemetery. They had to knit up any holes their fish might swim through and yet keep the net invisible. Officers had to blend in with tourists and staff while taking positions around the Tomb of the Unknowns.
Timing would be key. The cemetery closed at five o’clock, only fifteen minutes after the rendezvous. Darkness would close in rapidly after that.
Vanessa liked planning operations. Strategy intrigued her—tossing ideas back and forth. Mostly she liked working with the team.
But her job was to be with Nick. When the strategy session ended, she left. As she slipped through the fence to the house, she remembered the scene on the terrace that afternoon.
Nick had hired young Ray Lincoln to finish building the terrace stone wall. As an apprentice, Ray had no tools for the job, so Nick had financed the purchase. He’d salvaged Ray’s pride by arranging to deduct payments from his salary.
As they’d shaken hands to seal the bargain, Ray had said with his chin raised, “Deal. I do good work. You won’t be sorry.”
Nick wasn’t the shark she’d originally expected weeks ago when the director’d ordered her undercover. He dealt always with honor, respect and fairness. And he’d handled Ray with a sensitivity that impressed her.
How could she not love the man? How could she not wish with every fiber of her being for things to be different? For an end to the mandate to spy on him so she wouldn’t feel this burden of guilt.
For him to love her back.
She wrapped her arms around herself as if to ease the constant ache in her chest.
Nick trudged into the master suite late Saturday night and kicked off his loafers. He heard the shower running and smiled at how natural having Vanessa there felt.
She no longer bothered with the other bathroom. This one was designed for two. The tiled shower boasted dual heads, a shampoo dispenser and enough room to dance the tango.
He yanked off his shirt and unzipped his trousers.
The pretense of sleeping with him while keeping her belongings in the other bedroom was now reality, the norm. An arrangement he wanted to make permanent. After tomorrow’s trap for New Dawn, they could dispense with the damned Danielle charade. The entire mess created by Alexei had taken over his life. Worse, it had reincarnated his old guilt and pain.
On the plus side, the mess had brought him Vanessa.
With her warm cheer and gentleness, she’d poured her sunshine into his heart so the heavy darkness within him had begun to lift. She’d nudged him to reorder his priorities and take a hard look at what passed for his life. He needed that sunshine. He needed her wit and intelligence and kindness. Without her warmth, the old darkness might smother him.
A sound from the shower pulled him from his reverie. She was…singing? A rendition of “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” that redefined off-key. Her laugh and her speaking voice were low and sexy. Her singing grated like chalk on a board.
Grinning, he padded naked into the bathroom and opened the shower door.
A cloud of sultry heat laden with the perfume of her shampoo inundated his senses. She stood with her head back to rinse her hair. The mere sight of her excited him and expanded his soul.
Her closed eyes allowed him to drink in the view unobserved. Her raised arms lifted her full breasts, flushed pink and tempting from the hot water. He ached to lick the cascading water from her budded nipples. Suds oozed down her torso, clinging to the gentle swell of her hips. A fireball of heat roared through his blood and hardened him instantly.
“‘Oh, it’s one, two—’”
“Do you have a wounded chicken in here?”
She squeaked to a stop on “three strikes” when he stepped inside. Sputtering, she splashed shampoo suds at him. “You weren’t supposed to hear me.”
Laughing, he stepped into the spray and slicked up against her velvety body. “Then you shouldn’t sing so loud. Surveillance probably picked it up on the outdoor mikes.”
“Ye gods! The birds must have their heads tucked under their wings in protest.” She pushed the soap dispenser and smoothed soapy hands over his chest. Rising on tiptoes, she kissed his chin.
He bent to kiss her beautiful breasts, suckling the pebbled nipples until she gasped. “What other deep, dark secrets are you keeping from me?”
He pushed his arousal between her legs. Shuddering with pleasure, she squeezed her thighs together, and the pressure of her toned muscles veered the rest of his blood south. He was on fire. If he didn’t get inside her soon, he’d explode.
Sighing, she closed her eyes and twisted into the spray. “I’ve told you my personal secrets. My life is an open book.”
He couldn’t resist running his tongue along the arch of her graceful neck. “A few bad dates. A voice best kept under deep cover. Not very daring or professional for a hotshot government officer.”
A playful smile curved her mouth, and devilment gleamed in her green eyes. One hand closed around his heated length. “How’s this for daring? And it’s definitely unprofessional.”
Raw hunger pulsed through his veins, and he sucked in a ragged breath. “Unprofessional? I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. But later. Put your arms around my neck.”
Desperation roaring in his ears, he glided his hands slowly over the silken swells of her breasts, down the feminine flare of her hips. She writhed in delight, and as his fingers found the sensitive bud within her moist folds, she shuddered and arched against his hand.
Satisfied she was slick and ready for him, he sheathed himself with the protection he’d stashed on the soap dish. He lifted her against the tiled wall, and she twined her legs around him.
“Now, Nick!” A wild little moan parted her lips. She clutched at his arms as he wedged himself into her tight little body.
He pushed in, slow and deep, groaning at the power of her grip on him. She was so small, he was never sure they’d quite fit, but the fit was perfect. No woman had ever fitted him so well, read him so well, loved him so well.
Arching in his arms, she cradled him in her tight folds. Undulating to match his thrusts, she took him into the heat of her being.
His whole body tingled with pleasure that was almost painful. He gritted his teeth to make it last for her.
Together they found the rhythm that made her ripple against him. Together they fused into one as passion burned away the rest of the world. Together they slid and stroked and surged until heat tore from his body in a wave of ecstasy and she shimmered around him in torrid undulations.
Later when they lay in bed together, Vanessa’s body still sang. Her few previous experiences with sex had never brought her such depths and heights. Their illusory affair would end tomorrow or in a few days, but she’d never regret her one-sided love for Nick.
“About tomorrow,” she said. She wanted nothing left to chance. “Did Byrne go over all the details with you?”
He lay propped up on one elbow beside her. “As much as he cared to. The man doesn’t trust me with the laptop case of fake money. That’s locked up next door.”
“So you’re ready.”
“As ready as I can be. I still think there’s something about the place and time we’re missing. I wish I knew.”
The muscles in his face looked tense and hard, a man ready for action. The furrows of worry in his brow meant he’d stay cautious. A safe attitude.
S
he prayed for his safety.
“Byrne said they chose the time when visitors would be leaving the cemetery and dusk would confuse things,” she said. “Our people will blend in the crowd.”
“Their people, too.”
She moved her lips into what she intended as a cheerful smile, but sadness dragged at the corners. “Tomorrow this entire operation might end.”
Nick placed a warm palm against her cheek. “I don’t want us to end with it.”
Her heart hummed with exhilaration, but her conscience poked her with bitter reality. “But, Nick—”
His expression softening with affection, he pressed a long finger against her lips. “If you’re going to bring up the unprofessional issue, forget it. After tomorrow, our being together for real will be no issue.”
She scooted to a sitting position. “Nick, we haven’t been together for real. This is all an illusion. You don’t really know me. You know the role I’ve been playing in designer clothes and at posh restaurants and parties.”
He shook his head. “I also know the ‘Confessor’ who sweet-talked a greedy traitor out of his incriminating secrets. And the tough-minded government officer who faced down an angry superior to argue her case. I know the sexy naked woman who made love with me in the shower. Don’t tell me that’s not real.”
“We have so little in common. I’m a New York cop’s daughter, and you’re a CEO.”
“Who grew up on the docks, no stranger to city cops.”
“I’m not your type. Truly, I’m nothing like my sister or Danielle.”
“Danielle’s defection, if you remember, was more of a deal gone sour than a broken heart. I counted myself lucky. And it’s your fault I stopped seeing Diana.”
“My fault? I knew it. The paint—”
“Not the paint, honey. You were so damn cute in your painter’s hat, your glorious hair piled on top your head, all pink in the cheeks defending your sister, I knew then it wasn’t Diana I wanted. It was you. I tried to phone you a few days later, but your mom said you’d left the city.”
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