Deep Cover

by Moira Reid

  * * * * *

  Claire busied herself with the work she had to get done to make this deal come together in time. Working was easier than thinking about anything else at the moment—her father, wherever he’d gone off to, a crazed alien after her. Butch.

  Her father disappeared sometimes; he’d done it before. He’d left the country for a month once, hadn’t called, didn’t return her calls. When he’d returned, he’d brought her another sweatshirt with a palm tree on it and told her that he was a grown man who didn’t answer to her. Butch’s fear that he was dead was most likely a Viven version of plain-old human paranoia.

  And Garren—yes, he’d come after her last night, but her bodyguard had chased him off. Garren was probably right now realizing all this pursuit business was a perfectly good waste of time and was having a burger or whatever aliens ate for lunch across town somewhere.

  And Butch, well, she’d just been stupid this morning. Plain-old, ordinary stupid. Love? I mean, really. Love! You met him yesterday! It’s hormones in supremely high gear. How many women have mistaken great sex for love? Too many. Seriously, girl, get a grip. She didn’t need to think about anything right now but the sheaf of financial reports in front of her.

  As she told herself all these things, she realized something: she sucked at lying to herself.

  Her hands twitched on top of the conference table, and she placed them in her lap.

  “Everything okay?”

  Claire glanced up from the papers to Butch. He’d been sitting quietly at the opposite end of the table all this time. He looked none the worse for anything. Actually, he looked completely bored.

  She’d told that bastard she loved him of all things, and he’d behaved just as she should have known he would. He thought she was nuts. All she really wanted was him away from her so she could get this job done, get home, take a long, hot bath, and forget she’d ever gotten out of bed this morning.

  Unfortunately, since they’d arrived he’d never let her out of his sight.

  “Do you have to follow me around all day again?” Claire asked. “I never did get the chance to talk to Liz yesterday, and I need to. I’d like to do that in private.”

  “Yes, I need to stay with you all day. However”—he paused and rose from his seat—“if you promise that you’ll stay inside the building, I do have a few phone calls and some checking to do. You have all your work here—perhaps I could use your office to do that?”

  “I’ll stay inside the building unless you leave with me. Will that be acceptable?”

  “That’s fine.” He rose from the table and left the room without another word.

  So civilized. She wanted to kick his ass to kingdom come.

  Claire latched on to this release from the prison of his watchful gaze. Finally, she could take a deep breath without sucking in the sandalwood scent of his body. She could open her eyes without seeing his gorgeous face. Oh man, this sucked.

  The fact that he could walk away so easily, completely ignoring what had happened, cut her to the bone. Every moment next to him was more and more difficult.

  Her gaze strayed out the door, and she told herself she wasn’t watching him as he waited for the elevator. Although he stood not twenty feet away, he couldn’t have been farther away if he’d been back on Vivemonde, wherever that was. Considering how close they’d been last night and this morning, this gap between them was worse than if they’d never been together at all.

  Butch stepped inside the elevator and punched a button. She watched until the doors closed. A low, burning ache formed in her stomach. He had not looked at her again.

  Okay, that was enough. She would switch the power off on this emotional roller coaster and leave the cars standing in midair. If that’s where they were, then fine. They could remain there. She’d had quite enough of this ride. Today was Friday, and the last day to get everything ready for Monday’s meeting. She would focus on the work. Work had carried her through many difficult days, and it would carry her through this one.

  Her BlackBerry beeped, the readout announcing a visitor for her at the front desk. Dread prickled the back of her neck. She told herself not to be ridiculous. No way Garren would just walk through the front door. Whoever this was, it had to be work related.

  She left the conference room and headed to the front entrance. As she approached the front desk, she noted Jo Ann’s odd expression.

  “Miss Simonson, you have a visitor.”

  “So I gathered from your page. Where is he?”

  Jo Ann’s gaze darted off to the row of windows at the front of the building. “Not a he, a she. She’s standing right over there.”

  Claire turned to see a tall, slender woman with graying blonde hair staring out the front windows. She strode across the marble floor toward the woman, but before she could reach her, the woman turned around.

  Claire halted in the middle of the lobby, and twenty years disintegrated. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she couldn’t seem to remember how to make her lungs work properly. Dressed in a pink suit dress with matching pumps and sheer white hose on her long legs, the woman was in her mid to late forties now, but she looked like a Paris model, her face and demeanor that of someone much younger.

  Claire managed to suck oxygen into her empty lungs again, inflating the crushing pain in her chest. She’d pictured this moment so many times, dreamed of it during her childhood as she lay in bed. Finally the moment was here.

  The woman smiled and walked toward her, never taking her eyes off Claire, locking her in a crystal blue gaze.

  The elevator door dinged and the sound of heavy, running footsteps echoed through the lobby “Claire! Wait!”

  Butch was behind her before the woman reached her. He stepped around Claire, placing his body between them. “I came looking for you, and—Are you all right?” Butch looked over his shoulder, then back to the woman.

  “I’m fine.” Claire stepped around him. A deep look of sadness filled the woman’s eyes, or was that her own wishful thinking? Did she want to see regret over what this woman had done, remorse over all the lost years between them? Was there a response in those liquid eyes to the one question she’d never been able to answer for herself. Why?

  Claire tightened her grip on Butch’s knuckles. “Butch, this is Mrs. Olivia Simonson, my mother.”

  * * * * *

  “This is my bodyguard, Butch Markham.”

  Claire’s voice was surprisingly steady, as if every day she met those who had abandoned her and then suddenly reappeared. Butch was uncertain what to do, so he held out his hand toward Olivia Simonson, a full-blooded Viven. She shook it quickly, her attention diverted for only an instant before refocusing on her daughter.

  “Hello, Claire. You’ve become a beautiful woman.” Olivia’s voice was deeper than Claire’s, but there was no mistaking the similarity in the inflection. The timbre of her voice was as musical at her daughter’s. He wasn’t sure exactly when she’d left Claire and her father, but he’d lay money on who’d taught Claire to speak her first words.

  Claire’s mother adjusted the strap of the small handbag on her shoulder. “Lead us somewhere we may speak in private, Claire.”

  The audacity of her demanding a private audience with the child she’d abandoned struck Butch like a physical blow. Audacity from full-blooded Viven female was unheard of, but it appeared her mother had lived among humans long enough to acquire it despite her breeding.

  His first instinct was to step between the women and tell Mrs. Simonson she could make a fucking appointment. The urge to protect Claire burned like that of a bonded mate through his blood. He cursed himself silently. This was not his place to interfere.

  Claire had, however, introduced him, which was completely unnecessary. Perhaps she was having just as much trouble figuring out what to say as he was.

  “Why don’t we go to my office?” Claire asked. “Butch, would you mind giving us a few minutes?”

  He didn’t like the idea of letting her go al
one. She wanted him away; he could feel it within every fiber of himself, but he was here to protect her. He’d spent the entire day tailing her again, trying hard to ignore the pain in her eyes, the doubt he’d put there about her own desirability. She could not understand their ways. Yes, they were the ways of the kindred also, but she did not live among them and could not understand.

  No wonder she doesn’t understand. You joined your body to hers, knowing she is not your intended, asshole She’s confused because you confused her. This is on you.

  He stepped back to let the two women pass.

  Her mother gave him a long look, then averted her eyes and walked past.

  As he watched them move gracefully toward the elevators in silence, Butch was almost glad he wasn’t going to the meeting. Those eyes had seen him very clearly, and they didn’t like what they saw in him any better than he did.

  * * * * *

  Claire stood inside the elevator, staring at the row of numbers at the top of the doors. She watched each one light, then extinguish as they climbed to the top floor. All her prepared speeches, so fluid and clear all these years, were as thick and tangled as Butch’s dark hair had been in her fingers this morning.

  Oh God, not now. This was no time to think about Butch, she told herself. One catastrophe at a time, please.

  Her mother had said nothing either. Perhaps she was waiting for more privacy, perhaps for more time to allow Claire the chance to get used to the surprise of seeing her. Perhaps she, like Claire, did not know what to say.

  For whatever reason, when no words came to either of them, they rode in silence throughout the protracted trip to the top floor.

  They walked down the long hall together, passing by Liz’s desk. Liz did not look up from her computer screen. So many questions were swimming through Claire’s mind, she could hardly decide where to begin. She hated to barrage her mother with all of them, but then why should she give her a break? She had all this time to contact me, but she didn’t. She must know, must expect, that I would have a few words to say to her by now.

  The only problem was, Claire couldn’t think of a single one of them.

  She closed the door behind her mother and stood with her back pressed against it. All this time wishing for this moment, hoping for it, dreaming of how it would be, and it had finally arrived. So long not knowing her, not knowing where she was, and now she stood a few feet away. Anger, frustration, and an overwhelming desire to run to her mother and wrap her arms around her mingled together in Claire’s mind, but she couldn’t move from the spot.

  Her mother walked farther into the office, slowly turned, and took a long, examining look at her daughter. “I guess you’re wondering what I’m doing here.”

  Claire wondered a great deal more than that. This was the mother she remembered, the one who got right to it. If her mother had only managed to be as direct with her father, could have dealt with him as clearly and firmly as she’d always dealt with her daughter, things would have gone so differently for all of them.

  Why did you leave? Where did you go? Didn’t you love Father? How could you abandon me? She could bring herself to form none of these questions into words and instead opted for simple acquiescence. “Yes, I am wondering.”

  “It’s time for me to talk to you. You’re old enough now to understand, and I wanted to see you again. I thought maybe we could get to know each other.”

  Of all the times for a family reunion. “Understand? You thought I would understand?”

  “You were young, but you’re older now. Very beautiful too, Claire. You’ve grown up so nicely. Very beautiful.” Her mother’s long, slender fingers caressed her own cheek as she gazed at her. “What do you know about this bodyguard of yours? What was his name again, Butch?”

  So that was it? They were supposed to actually converse as if a lifetime hadn’t passed since they’d set eyes on each other?

  Claire searched for a sign of regret but saw none.

  Her confusion was overshadowed by the anger and bitterness choking her throat. “What do I know about him? I know he’s probably right outside this door.” She turned and yanked open the door that led to the hallway. “See?”

  Butch stood from his chair. “Is everything all right?”

  “Fine, Butch.” She turned back to her mother. “Unlike you, I knew exactly where he was.” She closed the door.

  * * * * *

  Butch had been waiting to see what color smoke rose from the office behind him. From that quick exchange, he had a clear picture, and it wasn’t pretty.

  Butch punched in the numbers to Dirk Simonson’s cell phone again and sat down to keep from fidgeting Where in the hell was he? Was the man dead? The first thought he’d had last night, his first gut feeling—Garren got to him.

  But that would mean the bastard was after the whole family. Or had he kidnapped the captain to get to Claire? If he’d kidnapped him, why the hell wasn’t Garren contacting them with demands?

  The sound of a cell phone suddenly ringing down the hallway caught his attention as he waited for the captain to pick up. The wheelchair-bound man rolled out of the elevator toward him, holding his phone and waving it at Butch.

  “Butch, stop calling me, will you? I left this thing in my van last night on purpose. Now I wish I’d left it there indefinitely. Annoying invention.”

  “Where in the hell—” Butch cleared his throat and tried to control his rising anger as it mingled with a deep relief. “Claire has been trying to get in contact with you since you called her yesterday. She had no idea where you were! Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

  “Called her yesterday?” Dirk shook his head and scowled. “I didn’t call her, and I can by God go wherever I want without her knowing what I’m doing every damn minute.”

  “You didn’t call her? You didn’t tell her to leave me?”

  “What in the hell are you talking about? I told you to stay with her!”

  Now the call to Claire’s BlackBerry made sense—that call had been Garren too. He’d called to lure her away from him so she’d be an easier target. When that hadn’t worked, he’d broken into the house.

  Damn, how could he have missed it? As a bodyguard he was starting to doubt if he had what it was going to take to keep her alive.

  Butch glanced up at Liz’s desk and caught her listening to them. He would tell Dirk about Garren’s tactics when idle ears weren’t listening. “Nothing. Your wife is here,” he said to change the subject. Hopefully he wasn’t betraying Claire by telling him this, but the captain paid the bills. He deserved to know what was going on, and besides, maybe he could give Butch a hint as to what might be happening on the other side of that door.

  “Where is she now?”

  “She’s with Claire.” He gestured toward the door beside him. “In there.”

  “Ah.” The captain rolled his chair until his back was against the wall next to Butch’s. “What’s going on in there? What have you heard?”

  He could have listened in, but Olivia would know he’d eavesdropped. From the way she’d looked at him earlier, he didn’t think she would appreciate it much either. “I thought you might tell me.”

  The captain laughed, a nasty, choked sound. “I have no fucking clue. I didn’t know she was in town. I spent hours last night trying to get in contact with her, but she wasn’t answering. Who knows what she is up to?”

  “You tried to contact her? You know where she lives?”

  “Of course I know where she lives. She’s been in the Bahamas for years. She’s still my wife, you know. I know where everyone in my life is.”

  More GPS devices? Butch wondered. “I thought she was out of your life—and Claire’s.”

  Dirk turned to him, a stern scowl burned into his features. “It’s not your job to know. It’s your job to protect her, not manage her personal life. You trying to piss me off?”

  Yeah, well, if the captain knew how he’d been managing the personal portion of Claire’s life in the past twe
nty-four hours, he only thought he was pissed. Trying to find a safe subject was becoming difficult. “She’s living in the Bahamas?”

  “Yeah, that’s where I moved her when she left. I didn’t need her underfoot and suddenly showing up. My contact who’s supposed to be keeping up with her comings and goings is obviously going to get fired for this shit.”

  Butch processed this information and pursed his lips. The captain had been tracking her for years, just as he’d been tracking his daughter. Hell, the captain had probably been tracking him too.

  “What should I do about her?”

  “I’ll take care of Claire’s mother. You stay with Claire. What are they saying in there? How is the meeting going? Is she all right?”

  “How would you expect her to be?” Butch’s voice was low, but loud enough for the captain to hear.

  “Pissed would be my guess,” the captain said, then took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Her mother always could get me pissed off pretty quick when she put her mind to it. What are they saying?”

  “I don’t think it’s much of a family reunion, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “I want to know what the hell they are saying, Butch. Now.”

  The captain’s voice turned back to the commander-in-chief tone, and Butch knew he’d stepped over the line. But suddenly, he didn’t care anymore. Besides, he suspected the captain knew a lot more than he was telling about what she was doing here in the first place.

  Butch waited for a moment of silence in the room. If this guy knows what’s going on in there, and his wife has something to do with it, why doesn’t he let me in on it? How am I supposed to do my job when he’s intentionally keeping me in the dark? Not that I’ve done much of a job protecting her so far anyway. Hell.

  When a silence finally fell in the room, Butch crossed one leg over the other. “They aren’t saying anything.”