by Lyn Stone
Chapter 4
A half hour later they reached his house���a gorgeous Victorian that belonged on a Christmas card. It was especially lovely dressed in its light coat of snow. Carol and Bud's bungalow looked like a dollhouse by comparison.
"Maybe I should wait in the car," she said. If he expected a scene with his mother, Dani definitely did not want to be witness to it���she'd seen enough ugliness today.
"Of course not. There's always coffee on and we can grab a bite to eat before we go." He got out and hurried around to open her door for her.
She still felt reluctant to go in. Though his words were sincere and hospitable, she caught the undertone of dread in them. What did he expect, a spanking or time-out in his room? At any rate, this little episode might well extinguish any looks-based romantic notions possibly forming in her subconscious.
They navigated the slick stone steps, which someone had dutifully sprinkled with what looked like kitty litter to combat the ice. She admired the front door with its beveled panes and oak frame. "Your house is beautiful."
He scrubbed his shoes over the rough mat. "It's my parents' place, but I live here, too. And you might as well call me Ben. I'll use Danielle, if you don't mind. My calling you 'Sweet' could get awkward."
Dani nearly laughed. Yeah, she'd bet Mama wouldn't cotton to that worth a damn. "It's Dani for short."
He walked right in without knocking, which was appropriate, she reminded herself, since he lived here. A grown man who lived with his parents. D��j�� vu all over again.
"Benjamin!" a thready voice cried from the room on the right. A wispy woman of around sixty appeared in the doorway, arms outstretched. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she carried a wadded tissue in her hand. "We've just heard what happened at the bank. They interrupted programming on television with the news. Are you all right, son?"
"Fine, Mother. Nothing to worry about." He embraced the woman, who had her eyes squeezed shut, tears running down her cheeks as she hugged him hard.
Her voice rose nearly an octave. "What's happened to you? I can tell when something's happened." The woman grew even shakier, trembling like a frightened bird. She seemed to notice Dani for the first time then. "Who is this?"
Dani froze the smile on her face, determined to keep it there even if things got ugly. If life went true to form, the agent in the house was about to take the heat for involving favorite son in an upcoming op.
Ben stepped back, carefully taking his mother's hand in his. "This is Danielle Sweet. She's a government agent and just happened to be at the bank today. Danielle, my mother, Martha Michaels."
"Nice to meet you," Dani said with a small nod as she fought the bizarre urge to curtsy. She didn't figure the woman would go for a handshake at this point. Maybe at any point.
Ben cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable. "Let's go sit down and I'll tell you everything. Where's Dad?"
"Here," answered the tall, silver-haired gentleman striding down the central hall. "I was in the den listening to the latest about the robbery. You'll have to give us the straight of it, though. Those news people tend to exaggerate."
Not this time, she'd bet, thought Dani. If Ben Michaels did have the straight of it, things were much worse than the media realized.
After her introduction to his father, they went into the living room. Dani took a seat on the Victorian sofa at Ben's indication. He waited until his parents were seated in the matching chairs that faced her, then sat beside her.
In a carefully modulated voice, he gave a seriously watered-down version of what had happened at the bank, leaving out any reference to his struggle for the weapon or the fact that he shot the perp. "Danielle very skillfully brought down the man who robbed us," he said finally, and gave her a beatific smile. "We're very lucky she was there today."
"You saved my boy?" Mr. Michaels asked, giving her a quizzical look. His expression said he didn't buy that scenario for a hot second. The mother was looking at her with something approaching horror, but whether it was on Dani's account or Ben's, it was hard to judge.
Dani glanced at Ben for direction. He just looked at her blankly. "Well...it's all in a day's work, sir." There. She gave a little shrug.
Ben looked away and studied the window for a minute, watching it snow. Then he dropped the bomb. "I need to pack a few things. Danielle and I are going to the Caymans to make some inquiries about the stolen funds."
"No!" His mother shot up out of her chair, exhibiting sudden agility for one who appeared so frail. "You are not getting yourself mixed up in this. It could be dangerous!" Her face crumpled a little and her voice rose and broke. "Benji, you...promised me."
Benji? Oh, boy, bet you love that nickname, Dani thought, biting her lip and trying not to smile.
Ben was there in a heartbeat, his arms around the woman, one hand patting the head she had nestled on his chest. "The danger's past, Mother. The man is dead now. No threat at all."
"There could be others working with him," his mother argued, her words muffled against his chest.
So Mama wasn't clueless. Dani wondered if Mrs. Michaels had noticed the few specks of blood on her son's dress shirt. Dutiful son would have changed that shirt if he had seen them himself. Maybe he was a little more distracted than he appeared.
He set his mother away from him, still holding her shoulders gently. "You shouldn't worry, Mom. I'll be perfectly safe and be back home in a few days."
Dani started to speak up to tell his parents that he wouldn't encounter any risk. Michaels had said the money was gone from the Cayman bank now. The only purpose for going there was to get information about the person who had shown up to collect part of it and transfer the rest. Interviewing bank employees presented no danger. But she decided to keep her mouth shut and let Ben handle his folks.
His father took over the support role and gestured with a jerk of his head for Ben to go and pack. Hesitantly, Ben did, leaving Dani to witness the older couple's silent struggle and the mother's tears.
"I think I'll just go wait in the car," Dani muttered, and headed for the door. "Nice to have met you both."
"Wait, don't do that," Mr. Michaels said. "You'll freeze out there. Why don't you go to the kitchen and have some coffee?" He pointed the way. "Just make yourself at home."
Dani gladly left the room, following her nose to the coffee. Adrenaline rushes ate up calories faster than any workout. She was starving and hoped Ben's offer of a quick meal would hold up, even if she had to watch him placate his mom's fears while they ate.
She found a mug and helped herself to the brew. Taking Mr. Michaels at his word, she made herself right at home and raided the cookie jar. She munched rather contentedly as she leaned against the counter and waited.
Within ten minutes Ben reappeared with a travel bag. He had changed out of his suit into cords, a brown pullover and boots.
"How L.L. Bean," she remarked, grinning up at him over her cup. Her hormones revved like a souped-up Harley. Ben Michaels was a hunk, no doubt about it. She raised her mug. "Coffee?"
He wore a steady non-expression. Great poker face. Great face, period. But unless he wanted you to know what he was thinking, you never would guess.
"Let's go," he said.
She was ready, full of the pilfered chocolate-chip cookies and not at all averse to hitting the road. But in spite of his words, Michaels seemed fairly reluctant to travel. "Aren't you going to say goodbye to your parents?"
"I did. It's snowing harder. If we don't leave soon, we might not get a flight out."
Goodness, he sounded almost hopeful. Mommy must have read him the riot act or hit him with another dose of guilt. At least he hadn't caved completely and told Dani to go on to Grand Cayman by herself, as she had half expected to happen.
She shrugged and set her cup in the sink. Maybe she shouldn't judge him so harshly. So what if he lived at home and was under Mama's thumb? Maybe he needed his folks. Maybe his experiences in the service had caused a bad case o
f posttraumatic stress or something.
Dani doubted that, though. When it came down to performing in a life-or-death situation, he had proved himself more than capable. No hesitation and apparently, no bad aftereffects. She could work with him. And so she promised herself she would not get personally involved with this guy, no matter how he physically cranked her tractor. One trip down that road was quite enough. After that one, she had decided her next boyfriend would be an orphan with no mother around to mess things up. She had held to that decision, but, as it happened, her second relationship had turned out even worse than the first. Her luck with men was awful.
When Ben took her arm going down the steps outside, Dani pulled away. She marched across the icy yard and opened her own car door. Self-sufficiency had become her credo these last few years. She had leaned on her last man and sure as heck didn't want one leaning on her.
Ben wondered what had set her off. Her sudden pique annoyed him. Maybe she resented his coming along on her mission. Well, that was just too bad. She could just deal with it.
"Messy day all around, isn't it?" he asked as he got in and buckled up.
"The rest of it certainly was, but I love the snow," she stated. Her tone was defensive, even argumentative.
"Me, too," he admitted. He recalled having dreamed about it while traipsing across burning desert sands and crawling through scrubby hills in Afghanistan. He liked drifts of snow four feet deep, covering everything with its pristine whiteness.
He felt a sense of urgency mixed with dread that he had not felt for nearly two years. But that threat had been up close and personal. It had been immediate. This one could have far-reaching effects across the world.
His world had already blown up once, a private disaster, nothing as earth-shaking as a globe vulnerable to terrorists.
Maybe he was wrong about the robbery. He sure hoped so.
He pinched the bridge of his nose then ran a hand over his face. Strange how it still felt as though it belonged to someone else. The nerves and muscles were obviously working. He could smile, frown, whistle, raise his brows. But the nose was wrong, too straight. The cheekbones, a bit high. Whenever he looked in the mirror, he wondered how much of his character had disappeared with his real face.
The surgeons had done a bang-up rebuild and he had nothing to complain about. It was better than having no face at all, which was pretty much where he had been eighteen months ago. They had given him the closest thing to a face transplant possible without actually using someone else's tissue. A total transformation. A miracle, really.
The only thing that looked remotely like the old Ben Michaels was his eye color and the line of his jaw. He had to deal with the strange new mug and get on with his life. Up to now, he thought he had been adjusting really well.
Today's events had held up a mirror he hadn't looked into before. With the new face, he had taken on a new personality and a new job. Now Ben saw very clearly that his life had become all pretense. A necessary pretense, he reminded himself, one he had to embrace.
He would get back to his new life soon, but first he had to do this. No point in doing it halfway, either.
"Want me to drive?"
Ben jerked out of his reverie and glanced over at the woman. "No, I'm good."
"No doubt. Did you bring a weapon?"
He dipped his chin in a nod. "Beretta. Packed it in my bag. I have the paperwork on it."
"You need a Walther PPK."
"Sez you."
She laughed, but it sounded odd. "You know what? I couldn't bring myself to pack mine away. It's in my purse and I'm clutching it like a security blanket. I called my boss and had him make arrangements for me to carry it on the plane. Is that a hoot? This morning's events must have struck a little deeper than I first realized." She sighed. "I was kicking myself the whole time for not having it on me when I needed it. Now since I won't let go of it, I'm stuck with marshal duty for the flight."
Ben understood about the gun. When he was in the hospital, blind as a bat and knowing he was surrounded by caring people, he still reached for that holster if something woke him from a sound sleep. The weapon hadn't been there, of course, but he had still reached. Habits died hard. They could die, though. "You'll get over it," he told her.
"I know I will," she agreed. Then she took a deep breath and turned sideways to face him. "Ben, do you really want to do this? I have the feeling you've got some major reservations about it, even though you volunteered."
"Nope, I'm in," he assured her without even looking over, shaking his head for emphasis. "No reservations whatsoever."
What a bald-faced lie. But it was not fear of danger that stifled his enthusiasm. Not fear for himself, anyway. And not for Danielle Sweet, either. But if he ended up dead or wounded again, he knew his mother might not survive this time. He worried about her more than he could say, but she wasn't the only one he had to consider here.
If he thought this money eventually helped finance even one act of terror and he hadn't done all he could to prevent it, he could never live with himself.
"Tell me how you got on to this team of yours," he suggested. That should fill his mind with something other than its current dark thoughts.
"When I was with the FBI, I shot a CIA agent," she replied, securing his full attention. He nearly ran off the road.
"I'm sure that endeared you to everyone in the Bureau. Did they promote you immediately?" He managed a grin. "You are joking, right?"
She shook her head, pulling her dark hair to one side and twisting the silky ends.
"He had turned," Ben guessed.
"Yes." She didn't elaborate.
Her sadness permeated the car and he could damn near feel her hurt. "You were involved with him," he guessed again, thinking that nothing else could cause that sudden expression of grief. Taking any man's life could cause terrible regret, but the effect on her seemed to cut deeper.
"It came down to him or me and my partner. Let's let it go at that."
"No problem." His hands tightened on the wheel and he squinted into the distance ahead.
She hadn't meant to share that episode in her life, he figured, and was not about to elaborate on the circumstances to a virtual stranger.
Ben tamped down his curiosity, cursing his need to reassure her that she had done the right thing. Surely she knew that already. But that knowledge could not simply erase all her feelings about the lover she had shot.
Seeking something pleasant, neutral and not to do with jobs, he asked, "So, where are you from?" keeping his voice light.
"Iowa," she replied curtly and without a hint of affection for her home state. He had never been there and knew nothing about it except that corn grew there. Maybe she had been glad to leave.
"Your folks still there?" he asked.
"No." Then a cold silence.
"Just trying to make conversation," he said.
She didn't answer. Two strikes and he was not going to swing again, but he couldn't help wonder why she was so stingy with personal information. He tried to recall what he knew about her sister, Carol, but nothing came to mind. Bud had never mentioned Carol's family, not even that Carol had a sister.
The sisters looked enough alike to be twins, although he sensed a profound difference between them. Carol's hair and complexion were a shade lighter. Her eyes were pale brown instead of Danielle's rich, dark amber. But there was a more marked distinction. Carol cast a warm steady glow about her. Danielle shot hot sparks in all directions. They almost couldn't be more different.
Neither Ben nor Dani spoke again until they reached the airport. There, everything was all-business as they glided through security on her badge and credentials and boarded the plane for Grand Cayman.
She sat in back, out of his sight. Ben settled down in his seat just behind the wing, reflecting on how odd he felt without her next to him. How the devil could he miss her company when he barely even knew her?
And yet he had seen her quiet and cautious under threat o
f death. Definitely well-trained and levelheaded. He had seen her attack with every ounce of her strength. Certainly courageous and aggressive. And he had seen her with a baby in her arms. Soft and maternal. How did those qualities combine and emerge so fluidly in a matter of hours? Somehow they did and the process fascinated him. It made him wonder what other qualities he might discover as he got to know her better.
No doubt facing and cheating death together caused a bond of sorts to form. He had seen it happen before. It had happened to him, so he also recognized how superficial that bond could be over the long term. He made a conscious decision not to delve any further than necessary into Danielle's psyche. He couldn't afford to get entangled with anyone, not with his life as it was now.
Besides, her job would take her away from him the minute this mission was over anyway. He would go back to banking, living out his promise to his mother. Dani would chase terrorists or do whatever else the government put in her job description. Their little twain wasn't likely to meet again. Which might well be for the best.
He shifted restlessly, grimly accepting that his size would not allow comfort in tourist class seats and stared out the window into the darkness. Ben saw that he was naturally drawn to her because she represented everything he had been forced to leave behind. But the strength of his heady attraction to her didn't diminish at all with that realization.
It didn't seem right that he was looking forward to these next few days, but he was. She was his ticket to visit that world he had lost.
Chapter 5
"You have reservations for Danielle Sweet," she said to the desk clerk. The hotel was a modest, mid-priced accommodation near the bank instead of one of the resorts on the beach.
"Yes, here it is," the clerk answered. "Two rooms, singles, for the remainder of tonight and tomorrow night."
"Right." Dani plopped down an agency credit card and pushed it across the desk with one finger. She flashed the young man a winning smile.
"Adjoining?" the clerk asked pleasantly.