Code Name: Fiancée

by Susan Vaughan

  When Director Nolan finished briefing Ambassador Khalil, the ambassador had thanked him profusely and vowed to root out the rest of New Dawn. An enlightening conversation with the holy man himself should put an end to their terror campaign.

  In the garage, Nick opened Vanessa’s door and offered a hand.

  “Guess I’m still a bit weak,” she said, accepting it. The warmth and support of his callused hand reminded her of what joy she’d found in his arms. Going back to her solitary life was too painful to contemplate.

  “You look four hundred percent better.” His gaze, full of tenderness, captured hers.

  Normal human concern, she reminded herself with a sharp pang of regret, after what they’d been through. No more. She’d disappointed him, deceived him, so they were done.

  “I feel better. Like I fell off a fifty-foot cliff, but I’m mobile. And clean.” A newly plaited braid draped her right shoulder, and she wore clean slacks and a pullover. “Laura Stratton breezed in this morning with stuff from my apartment. And she did my hair.”

  “I’m glad you don’t have to conceal your friendship any longer.”

  “Me, too. They’re adopting another child, a two-year-old from Romania. I can visit anytime since I’m on medical leave for a few months.”

  She stopped her chatter. Their words were small talk, meaningless. The conversation of two people who have nothing to say to each other. That saddened her more than ever.

  She ought to explain about her final search of the desk. Afterward she’d ask McNair to drive her to HQ to do her report. They were probably packing up the command post.

  Then she would go home to her studio apartment. Alone.

  “Vanessa, we need to talk about the other night. I overreacted, but it hurt that you didn’t trust me.”

  “I did trust you. I felt lower than a snake, but I had orders.” By snooping and not finding anything, she could prove to ATSA that he could be trusted. But she didn’t say that. “A former soldier should understand.”

  His hands hovered over her shoulders as if he feared hurting her. Lowering them to his sides, he said, “After a long night of soul searching, I figured out a lot of things. For one, that you had no choice. Security was paramount. But I needed to hear you say it again.”

  She realized she’d been holding her breath. What? Hoping for declarations of love? No more foolishness.

  Her gaze snagged on the library door. “Nick, did you ever look at the two papers? The ones I had when you came in?”

  He shook his head. “I stuffed them in my briefcase and shut down the laptop. Haven’t been back in there since.”

  That didn’t surprise her. They’d been a tad busy. “But they’re not your papers. I found them in the desk jammed to the back of a drawer.”

  “Then what the hell are they?”

  “They show what Alexei did with the ten million dollars.”

  “Say what?” Ray Lincoln scratched his head, making his short dreadlocks bounce like springs. “You want to pry off this gizmo. Y’all sure?” The wry cant to his mouth and the look in his eyes clearly said his new employer was nuts.

  “I’m sure,” Nick said, restraining a grin. “Go ahead and do your work. Just let me use a crowbar.”

  Ray shook his head in disbelief. “A crowbar? You better let me do it. You’ll trash the good part of this here wall.”

  “Do your worst. I’ll pay you for the extra.”

  Ray went at the medallion with a hammer and chisel.

  Nick joined Vanessa, buttoned in a corduroy jacket, at the wrought-iron table and chairs. Her cheeks glowed with the excitement of treasure hunting. She was poring over the two sheets of paper, the keys to Alexei’s stash.

  “I think the ATSA searchers either missed these or thought sketches of the stone medallions and descriptions of coins were of no importance. Who would?”

  “They weren’t looking for ten million dollars.” He cast an anxious glance at Ray’s progress. From the slow work chipping at the medallion’s edges, it would be a while. Alexei must’ve anticipated he’d have to hide his thefts from New Dawn. He’d converted the stolen funds to valuable coins. A quick check on the Internet had located the dozen coins on the list. Two—a 1913 Liberty Head nickel and a Colonial American silver sixpence—had each sold for over a million dollars within the last two years to an anonymous bidder. Damned clever of Alexei, Nick conceded.

  Then he’d mortared them behind the second medallion from the house. But after committing murder, he’d fled in such a rush that he’d left behind the coins. And the papers. By a fluke they’d lain stuck in the desk drawer for months.

  A crash and a crack like a lightning-split boulder pulled Nick from his cold seat.

  “Here you go, Mr. Markos.” Ray dropped the crowbar with a clatter. He mopped his brow with a red bandana.

  Nick knelt beside the medallion, split in three chunks. The pale November sun caught on shiny spots in the crumbled mortar. He picked up the trowel lying on the terrace and chipped them loose.

  “Oh, wow,” said Vanessa behind him.

  Nick levered to his feet. He held out the twelve coins in his palms.

  “Holy sh—, um…damn!” the young mason exclaimed. “All that for pocket change?”

  “You’ll think I’m a couple of inches off plumb, Ray, but these are the key to your future.”

  They hurried inside, leaving Ray scratching his head.

  “What did you mean by the key to his future?” she said.

  “The charitable fund,” he said as he put the coins in the safe. She should be part of this decision, as she would be in all his future ones. If she let him. Fear that she might not want him chilled the warm glow from finding the coins.

  “What have you decided?”

  “What do you think of low-interest loans to help deserving disadvantaged people start businesses?” He turned to see her reaction.

  The color in her cheeks brightened almost to match her hair. Her glowing smile reached inside him and hugged his heart. His throat was tight, and his eyes burned. Maybe he still had a chance.

  “Oh, Nick, that sounds perfect. Like a hard-working guy who needs a truck and tools for a landscaping business?”

  He knew she’d catch on quick. He ached to hug her, but her injury restrained him. “You got it. Or a great cook who wants to own a restaurant.”

  Moving gingerly, she unbuttoned her coat. When he offered to help her off with it, she shook her head and kept it on. He was afraid she’d leave, but she followed him to the kitchen.

  Vanessa geared up to be flip and casual about saying goodbye. She squared her shoulders. What she wanted to do was to cry and howl. The pain whacking her chest had nothing to do with her cracked ribs.

  She couldn’t help staring at Nick, memorizing the exact shade of his eyes, the proud blade of his nose, the sexy cleft in his chin, the ebony hairs curling above the V-neck of his cream-colored sweater.

  “You’ll be able to sell those coins for more than your brother paid,” she said, tamping down emotions that threatened to overflow. “That and the proceeds from the house sale will set up the charity fund.”

  “Dwight Wickham finally came through with a reasonable offer for the import business, too. He and Abdul Nadim have some scheme to enlarge. So that’s done.”

  He opened a cabinet door and took out the bag of coffee beans and the grinder.

  “Don’t make any for me,” she said, hoping her voice sounded normal. “I have to get going. Write out my report.”

  Slowly he turned, his wide shoulders impressive in the clingy knit. Something like fear or anger flitted across his features before his expression gentled. He took her hand and pulled her closer.

  “Honey, your report can wait. We have something much more important to sort out. Our future.”

  Chapter 19

  Our future?

  In his eyes she saw desire…and something softer. His dark velvet voice stirred heat and hope within her.

  “I…though
t we…it was done.” She didn’t trust herself to say more than that. Another word and she’d blurt out her love, lay her crumbling heart at his feet.

  He cupped her shoulders, kissed her nose. “If I have my way, ‘we…it’ will never be done. I don’t want to lose you, Vanessa. I love you. And I think—hope you feel the same.”

  His words branded her brain and jumpstarted her heart. The heat in his eyes held her in thrall, and she could say only, “Nick.”

  He curled a hand on her nape and massaged. “I’m climbing out of the darkness I’ve wallowed in for years. A few sessions with a shrink should help me the rest of the way out. I’m starting to trust myself. You’re responsible for that.”

  “Me? How?” The gentle pressure of his hands mesmerized her, drugged her more than the Demerol had.

  “Honey, you’ve prodded and challenged and supported me ever since we met. You helped me deal with my anger at Alexei. You made me examine my marriage plans and realize I’m not my father. I’ve been trying to prove my family honor and redeem my own. Without your tenacity on Somalia, I’d still be in that dark pit. You mean more to me than I have words to express.”

  “You were suffering. I knew from the first you were a good man, an honorable man who’d find his way. But you don’t know me, not really.”

  “I know enough, and we have time for the rest. I know your warmth and generosity, your wit and your humor. I know you brought sunshine and laughter into my empty life.” He lifted her hand and kissed the palm. “Besides, you’re so damn cute I can’t keep my hands off you. Marry me.”

  He surprised her so much she gasped, and the sudden twist cinched the elephant’s trunk around her ribs. After a couple of shallow breaths, she slipped from his hold. “Marriage? What kind of marriage? I want no part of your corporate contract. I want a real home and family.”

  “Vanessa, I want that, too. I’ve been hiding from my problems by filling the hours with work and social obligations. I didn’t think I could have a home other than a pad to crash in. I want the woman I love, not a contracted hostess. I want my best friend to make that home with me.” Intensity glowed in his dark eyes.

  She’d hurt him once. She couldn’t hurt him again by denying she loved him. “Oh, Nick, I tried not to fall in love with you. I had something to prove, too, that I could go undercover without getting involved.”

  He smiled with affection. “I’m glad you blew uninvolvement.”

  “I wanted you to be the hard-nosed CEO, but you weren’t. Your kindness and honor beat down my defenses. And you seemed to want me for myself, not for who I pretended to be or for an ulterior motive.”

  “And I know that you wanted me for me, not for my money.”

  “I guess we’ve both missed knowing what it’s like to be loved for ourselves. We have that in common.”

  “Unless you want me for those ten-plus-million dollars worth of coins.”

  “What?” Then she saw the mischief in his eyes. Love softened his gaze and seeped into her soul, tempting her to believe. But doubts lingered. “You. Me. It would never last.”

  “And why not? We love each other. Everything else can be worked out.” He bent and nuzzled her ear.

  She dredged up courage and backed away. “Nick, I’d never fit in your social circles. All those sophisticated jet-setters and important diplomats and tycoons.” She twisted her hands in front of her as if that could soothe the panic racing an Indy course in her stomach.

  “Latrea mou. Sweetheart.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. “You have been doing exactly that for the past few weeks. Fitting in with jet-setters and diplomats.”

  “But that was like in a play. Inside I knew I was just a cop’s daughter. It wasn’t real. I was just playing the part of Danielle.”

  He shook his head. “Danielle LeBec, European fashion editor for Adorn, isn’t real either.”

  She frowned, confused. “Well, she’s a bit shallow and egotistical, but—”

  “She changed her name. She was Twyla Zickafoose from Pork Chop, West Virginia. Didn’t think the fashion world would take her seriously.”

  She burst out laughing, then choked to a halt when her throbbing torso reminded her of her wound. “Really?”

  “Really. Cocktail parties, business luncheons, receptions. Everyone plays the part they make for themselves. Myself included. You think I don’t still feel inside that I’m just that kid selling sandwiches on the docks?”

  “Truly? Old insecurities come back to jab you, too?” She swallowed. Hard. Was it possible? She chanced a step closer.

  “Besides, with you to come home to, high society doesn’t have the appeal it used to.”

  He drew her against him, cradling her gently so he wouldn’t hurt her wound. She closed her eyes at the thrilling feel of his body, the intoxicating scent that was uniquely Nick, the needy hope that raced her heart.

  “Marry me, Vanessa. Build a life with me. I can set up an office in D.C. if you want to continue with ATSA. N.D.M. has plenty of accounts in the area.”

  The conflicting emotions swirling and eddying inside her flowed into certainty in her heart. “You’d do that for me?”

  “If you promise to leave undercover work to others.”

  “That’s an easy one. I plan to tell the director I’ll resign before I do another undercover assignment.”

  He laughed. “As long as you stay involved in this one.”

  She ran a finger down the crease in his chin. His skin felt warm and real. Not a figment of her dreams. She closed her eyes, and uttered a silent prayer of thanks for this incredible man who loved her. “ATSA has a division in New York City, you know. I could transfer.”

  He flashed a grin that nearly blinded her. “You’d be going home.”

  “Home will be wherever you are.”

  “Then it’s yes? You’ll marry me?” He sought her gaze, as if trying to see her answer.

  “Yes, Nick. I love you so much.” She pressed a hand on his chest and felt the steady beat of his heart.

  He cleared his throat and covered her hand with his. “I have something else I need to tell you.”

  Tilting her head to peer at his worried expression, she thought she knew. “I know General Nolan was extremely impressed with your—how did he put it? Ah, your ‘contribution to the mission.’ Did he want more than to thank you?”

  He shook his head. “More mind reading. You amaze me.”

  “The general?” she prompted.

  “He asked me to work for ATSA as a part-time consultant.”

  “A consultant? Like on foreign threats?”

  “Exactly. All the travel I do can serve double duty.”

  “Oh.” She tried to feel pleased and proud, but knowing he had to leave her behind carved a hollow place inside her.

  He tilted up her chin. “I agreed on one condition.”

  “Yes?”

  “That you can come with me as my advisor.”

  “You didn’t!” At his wide grin, her heart overflowed with happiness. “Nick, I love you so. Kiss me before my heart beats right out of my chest.”

  His hands cradling her head, he bent to capture her mouth in a kiss of compelling delight and caring warmth. She’d never felt so cherished.

  Raw sexual hunger shot through Nick so he could barely breathe. He burned to seal their love in the fires of passion. But it would be weeks before she was well enough. “I guess we’ll have to wait awhile for more than that,” he said ruefully as he lifted his head.

  “I heal fast.”

  Chuckling at her incurable optimism, he settled for holding her hand. His gaze caught on the engagement ring.

  He tapped it with his index finger. “Shame to ship this back to Danielle. I’ve grown used to seeing it on you.”

  “This old thing?” She twisted off the ring and tossed it over her shoulder. The ring bounced across the kitchen floor and came to rest in a corner. “Who needs it?”

  “What are you doing?”

  A tea
sing smile curved her lips. “Nick, it’s only a paste copy. Danielle has the real diamond. I don’t need a ring.”

  “Maybe you don’t, but I need to proclaim to the world that you’re mine. I’ll have the fluorescent diamond made into a ring for you. Its fire is no match for you, but it’s the best I can offer.”

  “Oh, Nick, it’s perfect,” she said, tears shimmering in her beautiful green eyes.

  “Not by a long shot, honey.” He tilted up her chin. “We are perfect. This is perfect.”

  He drew her into a kiss that celebrated their promise and spoke of forever.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-7375-1

  CODE NAME: FIANCÉE

  Copyright © 2005 by Susan Hofstetter Vaughan

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  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

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