Ice flooded her body and froze her to the spot. Although they didn’t specify exactly who “her” was, she knew. Lucy knew.
Iain opened the door with a smirk. Lucy snatched her cell out of his hands.
He jerked back in surprise.
“You can tell whoever is in there that I’d pay him more not to touch me.” She whirled and stomped away.
“Lucy,” Bartlett called. “That wasn’t what he…”
Lucy looked over her shoulder, and the guy trailed off with a grimace.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
What an ass.
She wanted to go home and curl up on her couch and surf the TV, but she was duty-bound to check with Max, see if he needed her for anything else. She headed downstairs to the Legat’s office. Knocked loudly on the outer door.
When there was no reply, she tried the doorknob, and the door swung open.
She stepped inside and frowned as she looked around. The room was more or less empty, but someone was hovering in the doorway of what yesterday had been a closet. It was the agent who was manning the phones with Max.
“Any progress?” she asked, walking toward him.
His eyes whipped over her, assessing. He relaxed when he recognized her. His eyes warmed. “Nothing.”
“Any idea where SSA Hawthorne is?” Lucy asked.
“Lucy, isn’t it?”
She nodded.
“He’s in the conference room. I doubt he’ll be long.”
Even as he said it, people came streaming out of the short hallway that led to Powell’s office. The doors off that corridor had always been shut whenever Lucy had cause to visit the Legat. Now she had to wonder what Top Secret investigation they were running from there—and what it had to do with the Russians.
She stood off to the side near the window. The man beside her rubbed the back of his neck as he stared out into the Buenos Aires night.
A lot more people came out of those offices than usual. Some were here to help with the kidnap case but also obviously with whatever was going on with this Russian investigation.
Damn.
How would this affect her job?
If the FBI arrested a Russian oligarch, the spymaster might put more pressure on Lucy, or he might burn her for spite when she didn’t give him a heads up about an investigation and impending arrest.
It might scupper everything.
Max came out of the conference room, leaning down to converse with the ambassador who looked pale. Her jaw was firm as granite.
Lucy flashed back to the scene in the ambassador’s office. Miranda and Phillip. Had she been hugging him or kissing him? Could they be having an affair? Lucy frowned, trying to think back on all of their interactions. Nothing stood out. It was far more likely the guy was in tears over the fact his daughter was being held for ransom by parties unknown.
Miranda had said earlier in the year she was seeing someone but hadn’t mentioned anyone lately.
Max strode over to where Lucy and the other negotiator stood. The ambassador left with Brian Powell, his expression tense and unrelenting. Lucy couldn’t read Max’s face or guess as to what he might have been briefed on.
“You need something, Lucy?” Max asked with a grin.
She bit her lip, feeling foolish for being here—like she was stalking her high school crush even though she’d been ordered to seek Max out. “Miranda requested I make sure you didn’t need me for anything else before I went home.”
He shook his head. “Nope. I’m done for the day. I’m whacked.” He grinned at her, obviously not feeling gauche or foolish the way she did. She hated that she’d lost all her self-confidence. That it had been obliterated by one man’s actions.
“Although, if there’s the chance of a ride back to the hotel I’d be grateful. I can grab a cab though if it’s out of your way.”
Lucy blinked repeatedly. Damn. She wasn’t sure she should spend too much time with this guy. She already liked him way too much, and he was more observant than most people who worked in the embassy in seeing through her shields. “Of course, I can drop you off. Not a problem.” She kept her voice bright and chipper. “What about tomorrow though? Miranda wants to know if you need me or not—”
“I do need your help tomorrow, if you can spare the time.” Max folded his arms and dipped his chin. “I could try to find another interpreter, but this job requires security clearance, and I enjoy working with you.”
A rush of warmth suffused Lucy’s entire being. She bent over her phone to hide her reaction. “Let me text her quickly, and I’ll—”
“You got your cell back?” he asked. “Can you show me where the DSS office is before we head out?”
“Of course.” There went her plan to escape his company as quickly as possible.
“I need another five minutes here, if you don’t mind?”
Lucy nodded and sat on one of the heavy, old-fashioned radiators on the edge of the room. Max shared a few words with Quinn and another man joined them who Lucy guessed was also part of the investigative team.
She looked around the office. Despite the late hour, a lot of the agents seemed to be settling down to work. Whatever was going on was huge.
What did it mean for her? She wasn’t sure but suspected it wasn’t good.
Max was finally ready to leave, and she was unnerved by the warmth in his gaze when it met hers. Like he saw behind the thick-framed glasses and out-of-control hair. He looked at her as if he liked the person he saw.
She needed to kill this thing that was growing between them before either of them got hurt.
* * *
Max sat in Lucy’s Mini watching the bright lights of the Argentine capitol streaming over the gleaming metal of the hood. She’d been strangely quiet since they’d picked up his cell phones, and he’d been distracted for most of the drive, mulling over the information he’d been told about Operation Soapbox.
He glanced at her.
She looked bone tired. She’d drawn her hair back into a ponytail at the first opportunity after they’d left the embassy, and removed the glasses she wore around the office, revealing pretty eyes and the slightly scooped-out hollow beneath her cheekbones.
He probably shouldn’t have begged a ride, but he was reluctant to say goodnight despite the fact they’d spent most of the day together. He kept remembering her dancing earlier. She’d been like a wild animal let out of her cage for a rare burst of freedom. And now she’d stuffed herself back inside and locked the damn door from the inside. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t more intrigued now than when he’d first seen her standing pressed tight to the ambassador’s wall.
His mind went back to what Brian Powell had revealed to him and the ambassador.
The Bureau was running special investigations into three Russian oligarchs who’d apparently been committing large-scale fraud and laundering money via various illegal practices in the States. One of the three men resided primarily in Argentina, hence the FBI activity down here. His name was Boris Yahontov, and he’d been with the US ambassador when she’d received news that her daughter had been kidnapped.
Coincidence? Maybe.
It was a huge case. The sort that could affect international politics for years.
The Americans needed rock-solid evidence of his illegal activities in order to have him arrested by the Argentines and extradited to the US. It would require significant political pressure to force the issue and the Russians would be fighting it every inch of the way. The FBI had been about to request warrants for the man’s arrest when the ambassador’s kid had been snatched.
Didn’t mean Operation Soapbox was connected to Max’s kidnap case, but it was a hell of a fluke if it wasn’t.
The investigation was tight. No leaks, which was essential if they hoped to catch Yahontov unaware. It was still possible that someone in the Argentine police force might tip the guy off after the warrant request was made, but the arrests needed to happen simultaneously here and in the US
. There was a limit as to how long the agents in the US could delay, bearing in mind all these guys could jump on a private jet and speed back to Moscow at a moment’s notice.
Yahontov might believe he was untouchable down here. He wasn’t.
Or he might have arranged his own insurance policy in the shape of a seventeen-year-old girl. If that was the case, Max was even more worried about Irene Lomakin’s fate. Kidnapping her did not serve that agenda.
Another daunting possibility was that, although the Russians might not have initially taken the girls, the kidnappers could sell the girls to the highest bidder—like they’d threatened to on the phone that morning. Russia would definitely be interested, more so if the Americans arrested Yahontov and the other two oligarchs.
It changed how Max needed to proceed with the negotiations. It turned a long game into a sprint race.
If the Russians got hold of Kristen Dickerson, the ambassador would be crippled. She’d need to be replaced at a time when the US would need an experienced diplomat at the helm to get Yahontov extradited to face charges in the US.
The Bureau was delaying for as long as they could before making the arrests in the US in the hopes Max could get the girls back. But if the oligarchs made moves to escape US soil, the Feds would move on both continents. It would be game over.
Everything so far pointed to this being a classic kidnap for ransom, but Max hated when counterintelligence operations became entangled in a case. It so often changed the focus from criminal investigation to information gathering. All Max cared about was getting the victims home safe.
Lucy pulled up at the hotel with a dramatic flourish.
Max levered open the car door. “Want to come in for a quick drink in the bar?”
He needed to unwind a little before he tried to sleep. It had been quite the day.
“I should get home.”
“Someone waiting for you?” He wanted to bite his tongue, but he’d been wanting to know the answer to that question since last night, and it was the first time the opportunity had presented itself.
She shot him a look.
It really wasn’t any of his business.
“No one is waiting for me. I’m tired is all.” Her voice sounded bleak. “Watch out for beautiful Argentine women who try to throw themselves at you.” She forced a quick grin and, even though it didn’t last long, he caught a glimpse of the Lucy he knew was hiding beneath the surface. A woman who was smart and quick and fun to be with. And sexy. The way she’d tangoed with that guy earlier had been hot. That woman was someone he’d like to know better if circumstances were different.
So why smother her personality? He didn’t get it.
He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Why do you hide away in the background the way you do? You act differently when you’re away from the embassy.”
Her expression closed down.
“Is there an issue with someone at the embassy?” he pushed.
She shook her head, the muscles in her throat working overtime.
“You’re like two different people.”
Her eyes changed. Frosted over. “I’m a professional.” The tone had bite. “My job is not about being in the limelight. It’s about making sure the ambassador’s needs are taken care of without getting in the way of her doing her job.”
Shit. So much for his negotiation skills.
He must be more tired than he’d realized. Or maybe she was more prickly than he wanted to believe.
Fine. He gave a shrug and pushed open the door. He didn’t have time for games. “My mistake. Good night, Lucy. Thanks for the ride.”
He climbed out, and Lucy sped away the moment he closed the door. He stood there watching her taillights disappear. So much for him thinking that maybe they were developing some sort of… friendship. Ever since the restaurant she’d been on edge.
Right now, it didn’t matter. He needed sleep but first he needed a quick drink. He headed inside and went straight to the Oak Bar. Grabbed a stool at the bar and ordered a whiskey. It was the same barman from last night but tonight the place was dead.
He sipped his drink and let the noise inside his brain settle. The single malt was smooth and warm as it slid over his tongue and seared his throat. It reminded him of home and probably cost the same as his monthly rent, so he wasn’t rushing it.
The last thing he wanted was to hurry negotiations either and, yet, he might not have a choice. He glanced at the clock. Andy should arrive by morning and Max would breathe easier when that loose end was tied up. Andy would make Irene his top priority and make sure the Lomakins didn’t do anything stupid.
FBI techs were investigating the Miguel connection. Max intended to see if he could interview Kristen’s three other best friends tomorrow and ask if they knew anything about the guy.
Wheels were turning. Progress was being made. He had a good feeling about this DNA sample at least leading them to a suspect. With the ambassador’s daughter’s life on the line, he was hopeful the Argentines wouldn’t react with force. There was a lot to be said for stealth and guile. As a former Special Forces soldier, he knew how he’d go about an op like this but, unfortunately, he wasn’t in charge.
He blew out a big breath. Took another drink of whiskey and tried to put the worry out of his mind for a few hours.
A beautiful blonde wearing a figure-hugging red dress with a slit all the way up to her thigh strutted into the bar. She sat three stools down from him and ordered a martini.
She would certainly take a man’s mind off his problems.
Her gaze caught his in the mirror behind the bar as she scanned the room. She gave him a wry smile.
Max didn’t need her kind of trouble, no matter how stunning she was. Max raised his hand to the barkeep. “Can I get the bill?”
The woman sat up straighter and leaned toward him. “You’re English.”
He didn’t bother to correct her as she moved a couple of stools closer.
“Where are you from?” he asked to be polite.
“Texas.” She smiled and then swallowed noisily. “I live down here with my husband.” She gave a bitter laugh. “My soon-to-be ex-husband.”
“Soon-to-be ex-husband?”
“I caught the rat bastard cheating on me. Ten years of marriage and he’s fucking his secretary. I should have known this would happen. He was married when he started dating me.” She sipped her martini. “I didn’t know he was married at the time, but I’m sure that didn’t matter much to his first wife either.”
“I doubt it did,” Max agreed.
Her bare arm brushed against his. Max knew it wasn’t accidental.
“So what do you do?”
He took another sip of whiskey. He’d been hoping for some peace and quiet which maybe said how dull and mundane his life had become. He didn’t do anything outside work except keep up with family and friends, and even that was becoming more and more infrequent. “This and that.”
“Hmm. My name is Teresa. What’s your name?”
Max smiled. He wasn’t interested. It wasn’t just because of his professionalism either. Another woman who was frustrating and difficult kept hijacking his thoughts. She might not be stunningly beautiful but there was something fundamental about Lucy Aston that tugged at him.
“Now you’re playing hard to get.” The blonde swiveled in her stool and leaned back against the bar, hair falling in thick waves behind her. The thin straps and plunging neckline revealed a knockout body. “I like hard to get.”
She touched her finger on the back of his hand where it rested on his thigh. “You know, I came down here hoping to find someone to help me avenge the fact that I’ve been wronged.”
Max shouldn’t ask but, first and foremost, he was law enforcement. “Avenge?”
She leaned closer and whispered, “In the bedroom. Naked. Limbs entangled.”
She looked over his shoulder and Max saw her eyes widen. Max turned, half expecting to see the cheating husband. Ins
tead, Lucy stood there with a stricken expression on her face.
He smiled in welcome, but her eyes darted to the blonde at his side, and she whirled around and strode out the door.
“Lucy.” He stood.
The blonde moved closer and put one palm against his heart and the other slid lower. “Don’t worry about that little mouse. I can show you a much better time.”
Max removed the woman’s hands. He put a note on the bar to cover the check. “Thanks for the offer, Teresa from Texas, but I’m not interested.” Then he took off after Lucy.
Chapter Twenty
Lucy’s lungs burned as if she’d inhaled fire. Mortification scorched her cheeks.
She couldn’t believe she’d come back to apologize to Max and had humiliated herself this way. At least she wasn’t performing sex acts in front of strangers, but would she never learn?
After driving away angrily, she’d felt obliged to return and smooth things over. She’d told herself she’d apologize and basically bore him with as much tedious introspection as she could dredge up about her life. She couldn’t afford for him to suspect anything was off with her.
The real problem was she wanted him to like her. She wanted him to be attracted to her despite the shapeless clothes and messy hair and unflattering makeup. Or rather, because of it. She wanted Max Hawthorne to be the sort of guy to appreciate someone for their brain and not their looks.
Considering she was disguising her looks and personality and coming across as a temperamental moron, that was a reach. Not to mention she was a lying hypocrite because she thought he was the handsomest guy she’d encountered since—
She cut off her thoughts.
Max Hawthorne was a weakness she couldn’t afford but here she was, moth to a flamethrower.
And for all Max’s talk about not hooking up during a case, he’d looked more than a little interested in the stunning blonde in the red cocktail dress who was draped all over him—and who wouldn’t be? The woman was a knockout.
Lucy’s throat tightened. Once upon a time, she’d been a woman who men had drooled over when she walked into a room. And here came her ego roaring back again, trying to destroy the tiny remnants of her soul that weren’t already dead.
Cold Cruel Kiss: A heart-stopping and addictive romantic thriller Page 21