Undercover in Copper Lake

by Marilyn Pappano - Undercover in Copper Lake

  And Holigans could live happily ever after.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from ONE SECRET NIGHT by Jennifer Morey.

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Romantic Suspense title.

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  Chapter 1

  One of Hollywood’s favorite heartbreakers had just spent the day being an ordinary tourist in distressed-denim jeans. Being normal rejuvenated Autumn Ivy. Here, she was no longer a spectacle. Here, she could escape the ridiculous extravaganza over the last man to fall prey to her flirtation. All of that had fallen away with the sights of Iceland’s spectacular southern coastline.

  Autumn entered the hotel, almost regretting the day had come to an end.

  The guide had taken her and the other tourists in the group through villages, Skaftafell National Park and the Skogafoss waterfall. Most memorable was the boat ride in the Jokulsarlon glacial lagoon. The boat could also drive on land. She’d taken pictures of icebergs covered in volcanic ash floating out to sea and gorges and valleys of the enormous Vatnajokull glacier. Everything about this day had been perfect. Everything except the jeans.

  Slinging her purse from left shoulder to right hip, her waterproof hiking boots touched soundlessly on the tiled floor as she headed for the elevators. Her long, light red hair swung in a tight ponytail. It was around seven and she’d stopped for dinner on the way back to the hotel. She couldn’t wait to soak in the Jacuzzi in her room and put on a pretty nightgown. Maybe she’d do her nails.

  A man with a shaved head waited at the elevators. His gray eyes followed her movements as she stopped a few feet from him to wait. He’d already pressed the button. Thin and over six feet tall, he looked to be in his late thirties. The way he kept watching her made her uneasy. It was almost ten at night and there weren’t many people in the lobby.

  Another man approached. This one drew her eye much more notably. A couple of inches taller than the shaved-head man, his body was sculpted with muscle. Autumn feasted on the sight of him. Dressed all in black, from his sturdy leather boots and cargo pants to the long-sleeved Under Armour shirt with a quarter zip, he had black hair that was far above his shoulders but thick. His green eyes glowed like lanterns and zeroed in on her. Dark stubble added to his manly appearance. So did the way he moved, smooth and sure. The platform of his chest and bulging arms oozed testosterone, but the bulge of his crotch stirred her curiosity most.

  Although man enough to add to her heartbreaker reputation, she’d rather stay out of the limelight awhile longer. The elevator doors opened and Autumn debated whether she should wait for the next one. The shaved-head man stepped inside, and the other man followed. The two eyed each other and then waited for her. The shaved-head man pressed the button that would keep the door open, and the man in black didn’t seem to like that. Autumn shook off the weird feeling she had and stepped into the elevator.

  The man in black pressed the top floor, which also happened to be hers. The other man pressed the button for the sixth floor.

  Standing nearest the elevator doors, Autumn glanced back to her right at the man with the shaved head. His gaze shifted from the other man to her. She glanced back to her left. The man in black looked right at her.

  She faced forward, watching the floor lights as the elevator slowed to a stop at the sixth floor. The doors began to slide open.

  The shaved-head man stepped forward, but instead of getting out of the elevator, he hooked his arm around Autumn’s waist, pinning her arms and locking her against him. She sucked in a startled breath. Was that a knife he had at her throat? While she struggled not to panic, he turned with her and backed out of the elevator. The man in black had drawn a gun from somewhere in his clothes. How had he concealed it? Autumn met the stranger’s green eyes and felt him assess her. She focused on his cool demeanor and kept fear from robbing her of clear thought.

  “Why are you following me?” the man who held her asked, stopping out in the hall.

  “Let her go and I won’t have to kill you,” came the other man’s unruffled response.

  Autumn looked down the hall without moving her head. It was empty. The stranger took a step forward and the man behind her adjusted his hold. She unzipped her purse at the same time. If she could get to her Mace...

  “Don’t come any closer,” the shaved-head man said.

  “Let her go.”

  The stranger wasn’t going to negotiate. There was something ominous about him. Deadly.

  “Wait a minute...I know you,” the shaved-head man said.

  “Let her go or die.”

  They knew each other? Autumn sensed the man behind her assess the bigger one and see that he was not afraid. She believed he would kill the one with the knife to her throat. Her captor must have picked up on the same signals. The hand with the knife faltered as though he was considering leaving her and running.

  He glanced down the hall. In his brief distraction, the other man fired a silenced shot. But instead of shooting to kill, he shot lower. Her captor yelled and his grasp on her loosened as he stumbled. Autumn shoved the knife away from her and twisted free to run down the hall.

  As she looked back, she tripped and fell, tumbling over the commercial-grade carpeting. Sitting on her rear, hands braced behind her, she watched the shaved-head man stagger into the stairwell and the man in black follow.

  Autumn considered making a run for her room. A sense of obligation stopped her. The stranger had saved her and she couldn’t leave without making sure he was all right. Dangerous curiosity played into her motivation, as well. Why had he gone after the shaved-head man and how did the two know each other?

  Climbing to her feet, she adjusted her purse and hurried to the stairwell door. Inside, she saw the man in black kick the other down a flight of stairs and then jog down after him. On that landing, the shaved-head man blocked the first two of the stranger’s strikes and then missed the next few well-placed blows. The man in black moved fluidly, blocking the smaller man’s attempted kick and then jumping up and pushing off the wall with his feet. Airborne, he swung his leg and clocked the other man on the side of the head before flipping his body back to the floor. The other man fell against the metal railing, retaliating with an unsteady swipe of the knife. The man in black had to leap back to avoid being sliced.

  That’s when Autumn realized he’d tucked his gun into the back waist of his pants. He didn’t intend to kill the man. He kicked the other man’s arm before he had a chance to stab him. The knife flew into the air and fell to the cement floor. The smaller man charged, ramming the man in black. The two crashed against the wall. The man in black rammed his knee to the other man’s sternum. A punch sent the man back a step. The smaller man had managed to come away with the man in black’s gun. But he kicked that man’s wrist again and the gun went the way of the knife. Before the smaller man could recover, the man in black drove his hand into his throat. Stumbling backward, the smaller man choked and gurgled, putting his hand to his neck. Falling against the opposite wall, he stared at the man in black and then slumped to the floor, where he went motionless.

  Had the man in black just killed him?

  Autumn gripped the cold metal railing.

  Bending to pick up his gun, the man in black tucked it back into his pants, where she now noticed there was a holster that his shirt covered. Then he went to the man’s body and began searching his clothes, all very methodical and cold. Finding a cell phone, he stuffed that into his front pa
nt pocket and then looked up at her before climbing the stairs.

  He was a man practiced at what he’d just done. Kill a man with one hand...

  Things like this never happened to her. They happened to her siblings Arizona and Lincoln. Not her. Shopping happened to her. Nail salons. Trips to new and exotic places.

  The stranger stopped before her. “We have to get out of here.”

  She came out of her stupor. “Wh-what?” Did he mean to run away?

  He took her hand in his and led her up to the next floor.

  “We have to call the police,” she said.

  “No police.”

  Were they going to leave the body there for someone to find? She began to resist, tugging her hand. She’d go contact the police. The fact that he had no intention of doing so made her suspect he had a criminal element to him.

  “Let me go,” she demanded.

  At the door leading out of the stairwell, he stopped and put his hands on her shoulders. “That man was wanted by the FBI. I tracked him here and was supposed to arrest him.”

  But he hadn’t had the chance. The man had taken her hostage. It was only when the other man had gone after his gun that he’d had to use deadly force.

  “You’re FBI?” She began to feel marginally better. “What did he do?”

  “He’s a well-known assassin.”

  “An...” He killed people? “He said he knew you.”

  “His name is Tabor Creighton. I’ve been looking for him for a while now.”

  This was too strange and unreal. Should she trust this man? What he’d told her so far seemed plausible and yet she hesitated. “How do you know each other?”

  He cocked his head in growing impatience.

  “Tell me or we part ways right now and I’m calling security.” She dug out her phone for her purse.

  Before she could lift it all the way out, he put his hand on her wrist. She looked up.

  “One of the people he murdered was a woman who was rescued from the Middle East.”

  What did he mean, rescued? “Why did he murder her?” Was it just her or was he reluctant to talk about this?

  “She met and married an Arab man in the United States, who then convinced her to move with him to his homeland. She had two kids with him and finally couldn’t take his mistreatment any longer. She was killed less than a month after her rescue. Her children are being raised by her parents now.”

  “Oh...” she breathed with the awfulness of that, looking down the stairs. The assassin was out of sight, but she imagined him there. How terrible for some unwitting person to stumble upon all that gore. “Okay, he’s a bad person, but we can’t just leave him lying there.”

  After a moment of considering her, he said, “I was going to get you out of here first.” Then he took out a phone and made a call. "Yes. Hello. I was just visiting someone in a room here and heard a gunshot. It sounded like it came from the stairwell.” With that, and the faint sound of the clerk asking him questions, he disconnected and put his phone away.

  “Let’s go.” He held out his hand.

  She didn’t take it. Folding her arms, she stuck out her right foot. “Why aren’t we calling the police? And why did you hang up on that person like that?”

  “This is Iceland.” He opened the stairwell door. “Come with me.”

  She just stood there, all too aware of a dead man in the stairwell below and not sure about this stranger yet. “I don’t like this. It’s sneaky and immoral.” Did he have something to hide?

  Still holding the door open, he said, “I’ll tell the SAC what happened and he’ll deal with the politics. Please don’t make me deal with the politics. I didn’t think he was going to take a hostage.”

  “What’s a sack?” She lowered her arms and moved toward the door.

  “Special Agent in Charge. My boss.”

  Still uncertain but believing him, she went into the hallway. “Won’t the security cameras show us fighting that man?”

  He walked down the hall beside her. “I disabled the system before I went after him.”

  At the elevator, he pressed the up button while she gaped at him.

  “Why did you do that?” she asked when he didn’t volunteer any explanation.

  “I have to protect my identity.”

  As an FBI agent? Her attention drifted to his muscular arms and chest, biceps stretching the material of the black shirt. When she looked up and saw him notice, she jerked her head forward. How bizarre. A man was just killed and she was attracted to his killer. She couldn’t deny she had a weakness for hot men, but should she be concerned?

  “Do you have a badge?” she asked.

  “I never bring it when I work undercover,” he said.

  He was working undercover. She tried not to be awed by that. But it did explain a lot...if he’d told the truth. She didn’t really have a reason not to believe him. Still, there was something off about him. And then not. It would be different if he had been the one with the knife to her throat. Instead, he’d been the one who’d saved her. An FBI agent.

  The elevator doors slid open and they stepped inside. He pressed her floor.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  She scoffed. “What’s yours?”

  He grinned. “Russ Markham. I’d show you my passport, but I left it in the rental.”

  “Is that your real name?” Folding her arms again, she watched the numbers climb on the elevator.

  “It’s what my passport says.”

  In other words, it was probably his cover name. Should she be bothered by that? Strangely, she wasn’t. He wasn’t lying to her. “Autumn Ivy.”

  The way his gaze roamed all over her for a brief moment revealed his pleasure that she’d let down her guard.

  She dropped her arms. “What now?”

  “I’m going to make sure you get to your room safely.”

  Was that all? Did she hope there would be more? The elevator stopped at the top floor and she stepped out ahead of him.

  “What brings you to Iceland?” he asked, now walking beside her.

  “A job. I’m a translator. A commercial contractor needed me to talk to the local workers. I only have another week to go.”

  “You speak Icelandic?”

  “And a few other languages, yes.”

  His brow rose. “You must be smart.”

  “No, I just like to travel.” She stopped at her suite door. “I’ve never been to Iceland.”

  “So you learn the language of everywhere you want to go?”

  “Not everywhere. Sometimes I just visit places, but I’m not the kind of girl who can handle a lot of downtime. I like to stay busy. Stability, routine—not for me.” That was why she hadn’t settled down yet. Being settled equaled stability and routine.

  A long moment passed during which he just looked at her with high regard. “An adventurer, are you?”

  “Yes, I suppose I am.” That was one word to describe it. Insatiably curious, and craver of new discoveries was more accurate.

  “Not afraid of much, either,” he said. “You handled yourself pretty well back there.”

  She shrugged off the compliment. She had been afraid. “Nothing to fear but fear itself, right?” That was survival.

  He seemed to like her response. “Right.”

  More time rolled by as they just stood there looking at each other.

  “Are you staying at this hotel?” she asked, shamelessly flirting.

  “No.” He glanced at her still-closed hotel room door.

  It suddenly occurred to her that she’d never see him again after this.

  Another long moment passed where they said nothing and communicated only with their eyes.

  “I could come in for a little while...” he finally said.

  She watched his mouth as he said that and while caution reared up inside her, a natural, insistent response kept it from taking over. She didn’t know him. Should she let a stranger into her room? He worked for the FBI. And
she wasn’t getting any eerie vibes from him. She could sense a person’s overall goodness and he came across as relatively harmless.

  Not one to shy away from impulse and chances, she said, “All right.”

  She dug out her room key from her purse and opened the suite door.

  Wood flooring and modern furnishings welcomed them. Dim light came from a lamp on a table next to a taupe-colored sofa with red-and-white pillows. The windows all along the far wall were dark now.

  Russ wandered over there. Autumn joined him, seeing flashing lights in the parking lot below. She wanted to ignore the reminder of what had brought them to this moment.

  “When will you call your SAC?” she asked him.

  “In the morning. He doesn’t like to be bothered at night.”

  She supposed that was reasonable. The assassin was dead and local authorities were on the scene. But was he using delay tactics? How would she know if he called his SAC? And did it matter if she did? Maybe she was still shaken up over what had happened.

  Turning away from the window, she asked, “Something to drink?”

  “Whatever you’re having.”

  At the small bar area, she began to uncork a bottle of red wine she’d asked to be brought to her room. Maybe this would help her sleep tonight.

  Russ appeared beside her, making her jump. He was so quiet. Reaching for the bottle opener, his hand touched hers as he took it from her. Seared by acute awareness, she inched away and waited for him to open the bottle and pour two glasses. Why did strange new men appeal to her so much? Strange, new, masculine men. Good-looking men. Maybe this was dangerous behavior. Maybe she deserved what the media said about her and her dating habits.

  She often justified herself with the explanation that she wasn’t ready to settle down, but what if there was more to her taste for men like Russ?

  He handed her a glass of wine and she held it while he took a sip from his and observed her with those gorgeous green eyes.

  “Where do you live?” she asked.

  “Lander, Wyoming.”

  “Hmm.” She nodded. “Do you like it there?” Mundane conversation defused some of the puzzling chemistry mixing between them.