by Dawn Atkins
“I’ve been checking. There’s no official record of the man’s death.”
She shrugged and sent him another smile. “We’re talking about Colombia. Records get lost, or more likely, they never get filed. I was there in the alley. I arranged the hit. You’ll have to take my word for it. Or the shooter’s. His report is in the file. He’s the marksman you insisted I take with me.”
“I spoke with him. He says that you insisted on a shot to the shoulder.”
Bailey’s stomach knotted even tighter. “Because I wanted to finish the job myself and make sure there was no mistake. I shot him and let me assure you that he’s dead.”
For a moment Hadley Richards merely studied her with a slight frown on his face. She knew exactly what he saw. She’d worked very hard to cultivate a specific image on the job. She saw a hairstylist once a month to keep her straight blond hair at a perfect length, one that she could tie at the nape of her neck when she worked out or let fall straight to a spot just below her chin when she was in the office. Her manicurist kept her nails short and covered with a clear polish. And she was wearing her typical uniform, a conservative suit—today’s had a pinstripe running through it. The only personal indulgences on the job were the gold hoops she wore in her ears and the red silk blouse.
Finally, Had nodded curtly and rose from his chair. “If anything changes, if you hear anything, notify me immediately.”
“Yes, Mr. Richards,” she said as he moved out of her office. Then she wadded up the piece of paper she’d been meticulously taking notes on and hurled it at the door. The act was childish she knew. But the man was beginning to really annoy her.
Worse, he was beginning to worry her. Not that he hadn’t before. He’d been worrying her for six months, ever since he’d walked into her office and handed her the reports that “proved” Jed Calhoun had murdered Frank Medici for the Vidal drug cartel. They sure as hell had made Jed Calhoun look guilty.
But her gut instinct had told her that Jed Calhoun hadn’t killed Frank.
Bailey had known Frank Medici personally. They’d even dated for a while when he was in between assignments. She had a hunch that was why Hadley had assigned her to handle the Jed Calhoun matter. Hadley Richards knew people and he knew how to play them. She was pretty sure he’d tried to play her.
He’d given her the assignment of contacting Jed to meet with Frank and deliver an urgent message that someone in the Vidal cartel might be on to him. So she’d been the one to send Jed Calhoun into that bar. When Hadley had presented her with the evidence of Jed’s guilt, he’d told her he’d recommended her for the job of taking Jed out. And Jed hadn’t suspected a thing. It was a very neat plan. Send one of Frank Medici’s old lovers to take out his killer, someone who’d sent that killer to the meeting that had cost Frank his life, and you could really up your chances of getting the job done.
What Hadley couldn’t have known was that Jed Calhoun had been one of the agents that Frank had most admired. He’d talked about Jed all the time, about what a straight arrow he was.
After pushing away from her desk, Bailey walked to the wad of paper, picked it up and dropped it neatly in the wastebasket as she moved toward the window. The late-afternoon sun sent long shadows sprawling across the parking lot below her. Her gaze moved quickly to the trees beyond. There was a small area with picnic tables for office workers who wanted to take their lunch breaks outside in good weather. Her office didn’t have one of the best views, nor did it have a corner window, but she liked it.
For some reason, looking out on the small picnic area helped her to center herself and think. Evidently, Hadley Richards had been wrong about her. She hadn’t gotten the job done, and now she could only hope to hell that she hadn’t been wrong about Jed Calhoun.
But the past couldn’t be changed. She had to stick to the present. Hadley Richards only suspected that Jed Calhoun was alive and back in D.C. So she still had the advantage. She knew that Jed would be meeting Gage Sinclair at the Blue Pepper tonight.
Once she’d spotted him at that party, she’d taken some precautions. There were two men Jed Calhoun was likely to contact: Ryder Kane or Gage Sinclair. She hadn’t been able to tap Ryder’s phone. The man’s security setup was impregnable. But she had managed to get a tap on Gage’s phone. Yesterday it had paid off. They’d been careful in the conversation. But then, Gage Sinclair had always been a very careful man.
She wondered if he remembered her at all. The first time she’d met him face-to-face was eight years ago. She’d been twenty, going into her senior year of college and he’d come to her school on a recruiting visit. She’d been so impressed that she’d done what she could to find out more about him. Gage Sinclair had had a very distinguished career with the CIA. He was not only a brilliant analyst, but he was also one of their best field agents. She supposed, looking back, that she’d developed a sort of crush on him, and the fact that he was a handsome, older man probably only facilitated her feelings. Bailey nearly smiled at the memory. Gage Sinclair was the reason she’d joined the CIA, and during her training, he’d been her mentor. He was the man who’d told her always to rely on her instincts.
She hoped to God they hadn’t failed her where Jed Calhoun was concerned.
Tonight she’d have her chance to get to Jed Calhoun before Hadley did. She had to talk to him. Her job and his life, and perhaps her own, depended on that.
6
THE SUN ON THE BACK of her neck was warm and soothing. Zoë sighed contentedly. The hammock wasn’t moving and she concluded vaguely that the breeze must have let up. She was alone. But Jed was near. She could feel his fingers, featherlight, moving from the base of her neck, down her back. The slow stroking of his hand, languidly seducing, lazily arousing, brought sleepy, exquisite pleasure. With a little moan, she arched her shoulders into the gentle caress of that magical touch. She was floating, suspended.
A faint sound—a ringing—pulled at her, but she fought it. She wanted the sensations she was experiencing to continue. Endlessly. She had no cares, no worries, no—
The ring was sharper this time, and it had Zoë’s head snapping up. Her hand connected with something, and she heard a flutter of…something. She blinked, but her mind was so fuzzy, so disoriented, that she wasn’t sure where she was.
Another ring.
Zoë looked around and tried to focus. She wasn’t in the hammock. Disappointment rolled through her. Reality crashed back in. She was in her office. And she’d just sent a pile of note cards slithering helter-skelter across the floor. Damn. An hour’s work was destroyed in one fell swoop. She dropped her head into her hands.
It was all Jed Calhoun’s fault.
When the phone rang yet another time, she picked it up. “Zoë McNamara here.”
There was no response on the other end. Whoever had called had been transferred to voice mail. Had it been Jed? She pressed the caller ID button, saw Sierra’s name and made an effort to swallow her disappointment.
Jed hadn’t called her. Not the night they’d made love, not yesterday and not today. It was ridiculous for her to feel so bummed about that. They’d had an agreement.
She had to put aside the fact that the one-time-only event had been a bad idea. Making love with him in that hammock had only increased her appetite for him.
It hadn’t worked the way she’d planned. Not at all. When it came to men, nothing ever did.
Dropping her hands to the desk, she fisted them and shoved down on the bubble of panic that was expanding in her stomach. Opening the top drawer of her desk, she took out her Jed Calhoun notebook and flipped it open to a fresh page. Her experience analyzing research had taught her to face the truth head-on.
Number one: She wanted to make love to Jed Calhoun again. No use lying about that. Her dreams, along with her waking thoughts, were filled with him even more than they’d been before.
Number two: Arranging another “event” with Jed probably wouldn’t solve her problem. It might even make it worse. What i
f her appetite for him increased again? There were cases in the narrative data she’d collected where instant and high-potency chemistry between two people never burned out. It lasted for years and years. She’d recently interviewed a couple in their sixties who’d sworn that what was between them was “hotter than ever.”
Number three: She needed another solution. Her theory that making love with him one time would solve her problem had been wrong. It was time to try something else. That’s what researchers and analysts did. She glanced at the cards strewn across the floor and at the blank sheet of paper on her desk. Work. It had always been her salvation before. She’d just throw herself back into it and eventually, the memory of Jed Calhoun would fade.
It had to.
She was about to rise to gather up the note cards when a sharp knock sounded on her door.
“Zoë, are you in there?”
Before Zoë could reply, the door opened and Sierra strode in. “Are you all right? I’ve tried twice to get you on the phone. I—” Sierra’s voice broke off as she gazed at the floor. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Zoë said.
Sierra glanced around the room. “I don’t think so. You’re not answering your phone, and I’ve never seen your office like this.”
“I have a lot on my mind.”
Sierra sat down in the chair facing Zoë’s and said, “This is about Jed Calhoun, isn’t it?”
Zoë folded her hands on the desk and concentrated hard. Lying wasn’t one of her strengths. “That’s over. Jed and I just decided to act on our mutual attraction for one another. Both of us have other priorities right now and the chemistry between us was getting in our way. Now it’s finished.”
Sierra’s eyes narrowed.
The lie hadn’t worked. Zoë could sense it, but she managed to hold Sierra’s gaze and she didn’t blush.
“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. But I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t had my sisters to talk to when I first met Ryder. Did you know that I kissed him in the bar of the Blue Pepper before I ever knew his name? I just kissed him—a perfect stranger.”
Zoë bit on her bottom lip, glanced at her phone and then finally said, “It’s been two days and he hasn’t called.”
Sierra frowned. “Jed’s life is complicated right now. He moved out of Ryder’s houseboat yesterday. And Ryder can’t or won’t tell me where he’s gone.”
Zoë’s heart sank. “I really didn’t expect him to call.”
“But you’re having second thoughts about that. I can tell, and it’s my fault. I encouraged you to go after him.”
Zoë met Sierra’s eyes. “This is not your fault. It was my decision, and I don’t regret it.” Even as she said the words, Zoë realized they were true. How could she ever regret the time she’d spent with Jed?
“Well, I’m going to see if I can get some more information out of Ryder. In the meantime—” Sierra paused to glance around the office “—I think you need a girls’ night out.”
“I don’t know, I—”
“My sisters and I and two of Natalie’s friends are gathering at Rory’s place first. Rory’s fiancé, Hunter, owns this exclusive lingerie shop and Rory is bringing samples from the new line to show us. Jed Calhoun isn’t the only man out there.”
Zoë opened her mouth, but Sierra hurried on. “C’mon. What have you got to lose? There’s nothing like some really sexy underwear to build up your confidence.”
“Sexy underwear?”
“Really sexy.”
Zoë thought about how new underwear had been one of the things she’d intended to purchase before she’d even approached Jed in the first place.
Sierra rose and moved toward the door. “Rory will explain everything. She swears that the main reason she captured Hunter’s heart was a red thong.” Sierra opened the door. “C’mon. It’ll be fun.”
Zoë glanced down. “I’m not really dressed to go out.”
“Rory will lend you something, and afterward, we’re having dinner at the Blue Pepper.” She grinned at Zoë. “Who knows? The love of your life could be waiting for you there right now! That’s where I first met Ryder.”
What did she have to lose? Zoë thought as she rose and followed Sierra out the door.
THE FACT THAT the Blue Pepper was one of Georgetown’s most popular bistros was confirmed for Jed as he entered the restaurant. His gaze followed a waiter with a loaded tray climbing the short flight of stairs that led from the crowded bar to the main dining area. The tables were nearly all taken. A glance to his right told him that the tables on the patio were filled, too. Above the noise of the conversations buzzing around him, he could hear that the band was playing jazz.
George, a gentle giant of a man and one of the owners, was swamped with customers at the bar, and his partner, Rad, a small man with flamboyant taste in clothes and hairstyles, was greeting guests at the reservation desk. The two men were partners in life as well as business, and they seemed to make a perfect team. The waiting area was so crowded with customers that Jed had to elbow his way through them.
He’d been here once before with Ryder and Sierra and her sisters, and he’d gone along with Ryder’s suggestion that he meet Gage here because he was familiar with the place and he could depend on it being crowded. There was a slim chance that someone might be watching Gage, and it was always easier to disappear into a crowd.
When he finally reached the reservation desk, Rad was sweet-talking an impatient-looking customer. Tonight, Rad was a picture in black and white—white hair, black silk shirt and slacks set off with a black-and-white striped tie. The man had a sharp eye for both people and fashion, and a knack for remembering faces. This would be the first test of his disguise, and it would be a tough one.
“…very busy tonight,” Rad was saying. “But I think I can fit you in on the patio in about forty-five minutes if you’d like to wait in the bar.”
“Okay. But don’t forget I’m there,” said the impatient man.
“Never,” Rad promised with a reassuring smile and then scribbled something in the reservation book.
Jed waited for Rad to glance up at him. In the kind of work he’d done for the government, he’d had quite a bit of experience with donning disguises. He wondered what Rad would think of Ethan Blair.
Rad glanced up at him. “Yes?”
“Ethan Blair. I have a reservation for two at eight o’clock. I requested a table near the railing on the upper level.”
Something flashed into Rad’s eyes, and Jed saw with relief that it was interest and not recognition. Rad had an eye for fashion, and his gaze swept over Jed as he grabbed two menus. Jed knew exactly what the man was seeing—the silk shirt and tie, the Italian-designed suit. He’d temporarily dyed his hair black and had it trimmed at the men’s salon at the Woodbridge Hotel where he’d also gotten a manicure. He’d purchased the gold pinkie ring he wore in the hotel’s gift shop. The Woodbridge, the hotel where he’d elected to stay for the next few days, was located close to Georgetown and boasted several exits. He’d picked up the glasses—which Jed felt added the perfect touch to the disguise—at one of those chains that guarantees one-hour service.
Rad’s eyes returned to his face, and Jed knew that he was noting the single diamond he wore in his right ear. Often it was the little things that meant the most in a disguise. With his knack for sizing up people, Rad would never associate an earring or a pinkie ring with Jed Calhoun.
Rad beamed a smile at him. “You’re a Brit, right?”
Jed nodded. “The accent gave me away?”
“The clothes, too,” Rad said as he began leading the way to the table. “American men have never developed the knack for dressing well. I love the tie, by the way. Mind telling me where you got it?”
“Harrods,” Jed said.
“Figured as much,” Rad said. “I’m very fond of ties. I suppose the shopping over there is better, too.”
“Much,” Jed agreed amiably as they r
eached the table.
Rad nodded knowingly. “Now if you’ll just describe your friend to me?”
“He’ll ask for me by name,” Jed said.
As Rad hurried away, Jed picked up one of the menus, but even as he did, he had the peculiar sensation that someone was watching him. As his muscles began to tense, he willed them to relax.
There was no one who could have followed him. After Ryder had dropped him off at Union Station, he’d taken a series of taxis before he’d arrived at the Woodbridge, and he’d made the same maneuvers coming to the Blue Pepper. It had to be Gage. Evidently, his old friend was already here.
Setting down the menu, he slowly scanned the crowd in the restaurant. Gage was a tall man with a rangy build, dark hair and intelligent eyes. He had a knack for being able to fade into a crowd, but if you met him in a dark alley, he was someone you wouldn’t want to mess with.
It had been three years since he’d last seen his old friend, but none of the men he saw in the waiting area earned a second glance. Casually, he shifted his gaze to the bar and instantly, his eyes collided with Zoë McNamara’s.
For a moment, he froze as questions and emotions tangled inside of him. What was she doing here? Had she recognized him? Even more disturbing to him were the feelings that seeing her had immediately sparked.
Desire was paramount. Making love to her hadn’t done a thing to dampen what he felt for her. In fact, it had turned what might have been simple attraction into a craving. In the two days that they had been apart, he’d decided something. He was going to have Zoë again, but not until he’d cleared his name. In the meantime, he wasn’t going to go anywhere near her because, if he did, he would put her in grave danger.
He also felt a hint of surprise. There was something different about her. She was wearing her hair down, and it fell in a shining sweep to her shoulders. The clothes were different, too. She was wearing a lace-edged top that looked more like lingerie than something a woman would wear out to a bar. Was she meeting a man?