Unauthorised Passion/Intimate Knowledge

by Amanda Stevens

  Penelope caught her breath. He was Simon.

  A dozen different emotions flooded over her. She wanted to be happy that he was here and well, but there were too many unanswered questions. And that look in his eyes. He was Simon, but he wasn’t her Simon.

  “How long?” she whispered.

  “How long have I been out of the coma? We’ll get to that. But first the suitcase. Where is it?”

  His calm persistence disturbed her more than anything. It was as if nothing else mattered to him at that moment, certainly not all those weeks she’d spent worrying herself sick over him. She felt her face go hot with anger. “I’m not telling you anything! Not until you give me some answers. How long, Simon? I saw you just yesterday—” She broke off on a gasp. “Oh, my God, you were faking it, weren’t you?” When his eyes darted away, she gave a little cry. “Why?”

  “It was necessary.”

  “Necessary!” She stared at him in horror. “It was necessary to let me go on thinking that you could die. That every time I came to see you might be my last. How could you do that, Simon? How could you do that to me?”

  He tried to take her hand, but she shoved him away. “Don’t touch me!”

  His expression went even darker then, and his voice hardened with resolve. “I did what I had to do. There’s more at stake here than just you and me. People are dying.”

  “Dying?” Her own voice went hoarse with shock. “What are you talking about?”

  He got up and paced for a moment, as if not quite certain how to proceed. Then he came back and sat on the edge of the bed. He tried to take her hand again, but she moved away from him. “Look at me, Penelope.” When she glanced up, he said earnestly, “I’m not the man you think I am.”

  She gave a bitter laugh. “No kidding.”

  “I am and I’m not.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “My name is Simon Decker, and I grew up next door to you in River Oaks. But I’m not an accountant, successful or otherwise. In fact, I have about five thousand dollars in my savings account. I don’t own a town house in Dallas or a condo in Aspen. I don’t even know how to ski.”

  She shook her head in confusion. “Then why did you say that you did?”

  He shrugged. “Because I needed you to believe that I still belonged in your world.”

  “Why? I don’t even belong in my world. If it’s money you’re after—”

  “I’m not after money. That’s the last thing I want.” As if too restless to remain still, he got up again and walked over to the window to glance out. “I work for the government, Penelope. I’m with a specialized unit in the Department of Homeland Security. Our job is to find weaknesses in the border. Covert routes used by drug traffickers, gun runners, you name it. We find the holes and plug them as best we can.”

  A federal agent? Simon?

  Penelope tightened her arms around her legs. Why should that revelation surprise her? After everything she’d learned tonight, nothing should shock her anymore.

  The Simon she knew—her fiancé—had obviously never existed. The Simon who shared her passion for pre-Columbian artifacts, who enjoyed the same movies and books, who liked the same restaurants…that man had been an imposter. A con man. That man had made a fool out of her.

  She rested her chin on her knees as something inside her curled up and died. “What does any of this have to do with me?”

  He was still focused on something outside her window. “I’ll get to that. But right now, you have to tell me where that suitcase is.”

  Why was he so interested in her suitcase? She hadn’t seen it since she’d checked it at the airport in Manzanillo.

  At that thought, her eyes shot to Simon. “You were there, weren’t you? In Mexico, I mean. I didn’t imagine seeing you that night. You were on a yacht with Tonio Vargas. The two of you were arguing. And then he turned up dead—” She broke off on a shudder. “Oh, my God, did you—”

  Simon turned from the window. “I didn’t kill him. You know me better than that.”

  “I don’t know you at all,” she cried. “The Simon I knew would never have put me through this. He wouldn’t have let me pour my heart and soul out time and again and not find a way to comfort me.” Angrily, she wiped away the tears that were suddenly streaming down her face. “Every time I had to leave you, I died a little inside. And you knew it. You knew it because I told you. I told you everything…” Anger and humiliation washed over her at the thought of all the intimacies she’d shared with him.

  The Simon she knew would never have hurt her like this, no matter how noble his intent. He would never have shamed her like this. The Simon she knew was considerate to a fault. This man was a stranger.

  Penelope pressed a fist to her mouth. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  He came back over and took her by the shoulders. “No, you’re not going to be sick, do you hear me? You’re going to pull yourself together and tell me where that suitcase is.”

  She jerked away from him. “I’m not telling you anything. Not until I understand why you did what you did.”

  His mouth thinned cruelly, and for a moment, the notion crossed Penelope’s mind that he might actually be capable of violence. But then he released her and dropped down on the edge of the bed. Running a hand through his hair, he said wearily, “What more do you want to know?”

  “If you didn’t kill Tonio, who did?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You must have some idea!”

  “I’m telling you the truth. I don’t know who killed him.”

  Penelope wished she could believe him, but she had a feeling there was so much more that he hadn’t told her. “Tonio warned me that I was in danger before he died. He said that I had no idea what I’d ended up in the middle of. And then I saw you in the square. I followed you into a courtyard. You kissed me.” She blinked back more tears. “You drugged me, didn’t you, Simon? That’s why I couldn’t remember anything the next morning.”

  “I couldn’t have you running all over Mexico claiming that you’d seen me,” he said. “Believe it or not, I wasn’t even supposed to be on that yacht. But Vargas was so spooked by then, it was the only place that he would agree to meet with me. And then there you were. It happened in a flash, but I knew you’d seen me. I knew you must have recognized me. It was one of those odd coincidences. Ironic, considering…” He trailed off, as if not wanting to finish the thought. “When I found out you’d placed calls to Fairhaven and to my father, I knew I had to do some serious damage control. The only thing I could do was convince you that you were seeing things.”

  “And what about last night at Fairhaven? Did you drug me then, too? I remember hiding from the guards in the physical-therapy unit, and then the next thing I knew, I woke up in my own apartment, in this very bed. Did you bring me here?”

  “It was for your own protection. You were starting to poke around in things you couldn’t begin to understand. I didn’t have the authority to bring you into the loop, so I did what I could to keep you out of it.”

  “Keep me out of what?” she cried in frustration. “I still don’t understand any of this.”

  He sighed. “I know you don’t. And, unfortunately, there’s only so much I can tell you.”

  “How convenient,” she said sarcastically. “What about leaving me at the altar? Can you tell me about that?” Before he could respond, she answered her own question. “You never intended to marry me, did you?”

  “If it was necessary.”

  “If it was necessary—” A fresh wave of humiliation washed over her. “Why me?”

  “Maybe I should start at the beginning,” he muttered.

  “Yes, the beginning!” she demanded angrily.

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “The day I came to the museum…that wasn’t a coincidence. I knew you worked there. I knew what your hours were, when you took your lunch break, even the book you would read while eating your turkey sandwich in the park. I kn
ew everything about you before I ever walked through the door.”

  Penelope should have been beyond hurt at that point, but each revelation brought its own pain and humiliation. “How could you possibly have known all that about me?”

  “I hired a local private detective firm to investigate you,” Simon said. “Their specialty is designing coincidental meetings between two people, one of them being their client.”

  Penelope shook her head helplessly. “I don’t understand. They design coincidences? How does that work?”

  “They followed you. They talked to your friends and family. They poked around in your trash. They found out everything they could about you. Intimate things….And then, when I was armed with the right information to pique your interest, they arranged for us to meet.”

  The muscles in Penelope’s chest tightened so painfully she could hardly breathe. “Why?”

  “Because I needed to connect with you as quickly as I could.”

  “But we had a connection,” she said desperately. “We grew up together.”

  He shrugged. “I couldn’t count on that. I didn’t even know if you’d remember me. And I needed more than a connection. I needed you to trust me.” He paused. “I needed you to fall in love with me.”

  Penelope squeezed her eyes closed as more tears formed behind her lashes. “Why me?” she repeated fiercely.

  “Because of where you work and who you know.”

  She felt overwhelmed by her helplessness. Her incomprehension.

  At this point, he acted as if they’d gotten past the hard part and were now heading for the home stretch. His weariness evaporated, and he seemed to gather strength and conviction as he talked. “We received a tip months ago that the Morehart Museum was being used to smuggle illegal substances across the border.”

  “That’s impossible. I would have known.” Then her hand flew to her mouth. “Wait a minute. You thought I was involved in something like that?”

  “Not directly, no, but we think your boss, Avery Bennett, is in it up to his neck. Bennett, however, is inconsequential in the whole scheme of things. We want his boss. The person behind this operation probably has dozens of points of entry all up and down the border.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “Have you ever heard of a toxin called Nicin?”

  Penelope frowned. “I think so. It’s derived from a plant that grows in the rain forest. I remember my father and my sister, Cassandra, having a pretty heated discussion about it once when she came back from Central America. It was being touted as the new and improved Botox, and for a while, the plant was harvested to the point of extinction. But it had too many side effects and the Food and Drug Administration never gave it approval.”

  He nodded. “That’s right. But what if I were to tell you that Nicin is once again being used in cosmetic procedures all over the world, even here in the United States? It’s becoming a booming black-market business.”

  “You think someone is using the Morehart to smuggle Nicin into the country?” she asked incredulously.

  “Yes. That’s exactly what we think.”

  “That’s why you had to make a connection with me? Because you thought I knew something?”

  “Like I said, I never seriously believed you were involved. But I needed a way to keep track of Avery Bennett’s movements.”

  “And I told you every time he left the country. Every time we received a shipment,” she said softly. “I told you everything. Is that why you pretended to be in a coma? Did you think I’d confess something to you?”

  “I pretended to be in a coma because someone tried to kill me,” he said grimly. “I was on my way to the Morehart the day of our wedding when my car was forced off the road. Someone shot at me…damned near killed me. We realized then that my cover was blown, and I’d be more effective if certain people thought I was out of commission for a while. Any confessions would have been a side benefit.”

  Penelope closed her eyes at his matter-of-fact tone. “You said you found out that I had phoned your father from Mexico. Does he know about this?”

  “He knows some of it.”

  “Is that why he’s so hostile toward me? Does he still think I’m involved?”

  Simon shook his head. “No. But he also knew that if he didn’t find a way to keep you at arm’s length, it would be next to impossible to fool you. You were pretty suspicious as it was.”

  “What about Yvette Dickerson? How much does she know?”

  “Everything. She’s one of us.”

  The anger that welled up inside Penelope at the thought of being duped by Yvette Dickerson surprised her. Anger, and maybe still a tinge of jealousy.

  “Is Fairhaven really a rehabilitation center or just a front?”

  “It’s real. But the staff…well, let’s just say, they have a special relationship with the government.”

  Whatever that meant.

  Penelope pushed back her hair in frustration. “How could you do it, Simon? Apart from the moral and ethical aspects of what you did, how could you physically pull it off? I stuck a pin in your finger and you didn’t even flinch.”

  He flinched now. “Trust me, that was the easy part.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Regret flashed in his eyes before he quickly looked away. “You told me a lot of things, Penelope. Some of which were a little hard to hear. Not reacting to a pinprick was the least of my worries.” His eyes came back to hers. “And then, of course, there was the day you decided to enlighten me about your fantasy.”

  She could feel herself turn bright red. “Don’t you dare bring that up! Oh, my God!” She buried her face in her hands, completely mortified.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I was just trying to explain the difficulties of the situation. I’m a normal, red-blooded male, and it’s a little hard to fight nature, that’s all.”

  “Really?” She lifted her head and glared at him. “There were times when you could have fooled me.”

  It was his turn to frown. “What do you mean?”

  “What difference does it make now?” she muttered.

  His voice hardened. “I’ve told you what I can, and now it’s your turn. Where’s the suitcase?”

  So they were back to that again. Penelope couldn’t look at him anymore. She turned her head away. “Why should I tell you anything? Why should I believe a word out of your mouth after what you’ve put me through?”

  He stood. “Get up.”

  “What?”

  He motioned with his hand. “Get up and get dressed under your own steam or I’ll do it for you.”

  He reached for the cover, but she drew it around her even tighter. “Don’t touch me. Don’t you dare even lay a finger on me.”

  He leaned down and planted his hands on either side of her. “You’re right,” he said. “You have no reason to accept my word on anything. So get dressed and I’ll take you to see someone you can believe.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  He took her to the federal building downtown and introduced her to a man whose face she immediately recognized from TV. His name was Charles Saber, and he was the man the local reporters always flocked to when they needed clarification about the latest Homeland Security alert. His credentials were impeccable, as were Simon’s, Penelope was soon to discover.

  Once they were seated, Saber began to talk to her about the responsibilities of his office and the larger mission of the Department of Homeland Security. Eventually, he brought the conversation back to the subject of Nicin.

  “Setting aside the fact that the toxin is illegal,” he said, “and that its side effects can be lethal, there are larger issues at play here. Anytime the border is penetrated, our national security is potentially at risk.”

  Penelope didn’t say anything. She was too intimidated by her surroundings to ask all the questions that were still roiling inside her.

  “We deal in life and death issues here,” he said. “Make no mistake about that.
”

  A photograph of the president hung on the wall behind Saber. Penelope tried to concentrate on that for a moment, but it only made her more nervous.

  “From time to time, we have to call on average citizens like you to help us out.”

  She swallowed. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Exactly what Agent Decker has asked of you. It’s imperative that we have your full cooperation and your complete discretion in this matter.”

  Penelope nodded. “Of course, but I still don’t—”

  “Good. I’m glad we understand each other.” He stood, as if anxious to draw the brief meeting to a conclusion. And at that time of night, Penelope could hardly blame him. She wondered how Simon had made the arrangements so hastily in the first place.

  A few minutes later, she and Simon were back in the parking garage where they’d left the car. Penelope climbed in and leaned her head against the window, staring out at the concrete backdrop. Simon got behind the wheel, but he didn’t start the engine. Penelope knew that he was looking at her as he sat in total silence.

  “What?” she finally muttered.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Do you think I’m okay?” she snapped. Charles Saber had made a believer out of her, but that didn’t mean the Simon pill was any easier to swallow. He’d lied to her for months, and now he expected her to cooperate. And more, he and Charles Saber had both made it clear that it was her duty to cooperate.

  She drew a breath. “The suitcase is at the airport.”

  “Thank you for that.”

  Penelope refused to face him. “It’s not like I had a choice or anything.”

  “Penny—”

  “Don’t call me that, okay? Don’t call me anything.”

  “I never wanted to hurt you,” he said softly.

  He sounded so much like the old Simon then, contrite and concerned, that Penelope had to squeeze her eyes closed against the tears. One escaped, and she angrily wiped it away with her fingertips. “But you did hurt me, Simon. Your lies hurt me and your deception hurt me. When I think about all those weeks…everything I told you…” She trailed off, trying to get her emotions under control. “What hurts most of all, though, is that you don’t even seem to care that you hurt me.”