by Dana Marton
She hadn’t even talked to the others on the team about Jimmy, and they’d become pretty close friends over the course of the mission. And yet they’d accepted her without explanations. Nothing short of a miracle, now that she thought about it. She appreciated the newfound friendships even more.
Cal wouldn’t look at her.
Did her admission bother him more than he’d admitted? “What is it?” If that was the case, she would prefer to know.
“I don’t care for horses.”
A second passed before the meaning of his words reached her brain. The weight on her chest lifted a little. It wasn’t about her past. She couldn’t help but smile. But the look on his face—“Are you scared of them?” Big, bad British spy boy scared of a harmless animal? Ha.
“I’m uncomfortable around them.”
He looked genuinely embarrassed, so she didn’t have the heart to pick on him. “That’s okay.” She’d been born and raised in the city, had never been anywhere close to one. Maybe she was scared of them, too, and she just didn’t know it. “No big deal.”
If he could look over the fact that she’d killed someone, she could certainly forgive his reluctance to ride.
“Easy for you to say.” He pressed his lips together. “Horses. I’m British. It’s like not liking Pimm’s—practically treason.” But he grinned.
She liked that about him, that he didn’t take life too seriously. He did what he had to but didn’t get hung up on things. Actually, that wasn’t the only thing she liked about him. She liked his easy strength, too. That he spoke what was on his mind, straight up. She thought of the way he’d kissed her. Yet another thing she liked about the man.
“I’ll go report back to Mark when we reach the shore.”
“I’ll update my team.”
“Don’t forget we’re going fishing first thing in the morning,” he said just as they reached a high point that was barren of trees and gave them a view below.
She could see the bungalows and the utility buildings, the small marina. The yacht was gone. So were the motorboats, the dock empty.
He was staring at that, too.
She hoped whoever had taken the yacht and the boats was coming back in a hurry.
Could their luck be this bad?
They finally had some information—earlier than she had expected—but now they were stuck on the island.
Uploaded by Coral
Chapter Six
“So it’s a virus and it’s here,” Gina said, summing up the information she’d gained on the mountain.
“We figured the virus part,” Carly said. “I chatted up the younger doc. They work in oncology at the moment with oncological viruses—viruses that prefer cancer cells. They are both top experts in virology, recruited by a pharmaceutical firm for research on an anticancer vaccine, then ended up at a major experimental oncology clinic.”
They were gathered in the kitchen once again, just as they used to at the office—except everything had escalated a thousandfold since. And this time they were cut off from Law and Tarasov, had no one for backup.
Gina nodded. “Two expert virologists. Makes sense.” She reached for another piece of chicken satay the others had saved for her from dinner and dipped it into the peanut sauce. “The virus is locked up tight.”
“Should I give it a try?” Sam asked. “Not that I know that much about bank safes…Anita?”
“Just because I worked in a bank once doesn’t mean I know how to break into the safe. I was nowhere near it. I did office work.”
“Cal couldn’t do it even with his superspy tools,” Gina added, pulling the last piece of meat off, then setting aside the bamboo skewer.
“Gadgets?” Carly perked up.
Gina couldn’t help a smile. “You’d like his stuff. Ask him to show you his watch when we have a quiet moment.”
“Doubt we’ll have many of those. We’re at the finish line,” Sam remarked, tugging on an eyebrow ring as she tended to do when she was nervous. “Can’t believe we made it this far.”
“We still don’t have a location on Tsernyakov,” Carly said. “I got into Mark’s computer while you were gone, but it’s all business stuff. Nothing in there that I could directly link to Tsernyakov’s movements. Wish I could have e-mailed Brant, but I didn’t dare. I don’t know what security systems they have in place. The PC is linked to a server somewhere. I’m thinking off-site. I can figure out what’s on the PC, but not what screens and alarms they have on the server. Too risky to keep going.”
“We’re not professionals. They couldn’t expect us to be able to fake it all the way to the end.” Sam blew the air out of her lungs.
Anita nodded in agreement. “Our makeshift training was bound to run out. Are you absolutely sure we can trust Spencer?” she asked for about the fourth time since Gina had brought the women up to date.
“What do your cop instincts say?” Sam asked.
“That he’s okay.” Her instincts as a woman, however, were screaming that he was so much better than that. She couldn’t forget that kiss. The memory of it was enough to make her lips tingle. She pressed them together.
“Too spicy?” Anita asked, gesturing toward the peanut sauce.
“Mmm.” Gina nodded and tried in vain to push Cal out of her mind.
He relit a fire in her that she’d let go out a long time ago. At the worst possible time, of course. What else was new? The men in her life tended to have lousy timing, culminating in her ex-husband, who had stuck to her like glue and demanded kids when she was a rookie cop with an overloaded and impossible schedule, then moved on to have an affair with a client of his just when she’d sorted out work and was ready to start a family.
“Let’s put together what we have so far.” Anita rolled out the handmade map where they had marked all the structures on the island with copious notes about function and security.
Gina cleared the dishes and washed her hands before sitting back down to look over the map one more time. She had marked the path they’d taken up the mountain as soon as she’d gotten back, along with the tower, the bunkers and the helipad. “Anything else to add?” she asked the others. They’d been busy around the bay and the stables while she’d been gone.
They all shook their heads one by one. Whatever they had, they’d marked on the map already. The next large sheet showed layouts of buildings, the guest bungalows, the main building with the kitchen and dining room, the utility buildings. She added the approximate blueprints of the bunkers, as well, then took several pictures with her camera ring.
“Is this as complete as we can make it?” Anita looked around.
They all knew what hinged on this operation. When the commando team came in, this makeshift map would be crucial to the success of the mission.
“We got in everywhere we could,” Carly said.
Gina snapped more pictures.
“Okay.” Anita rolled up the papers, then handed them to Gina. “Take them to Cal and see what he can add. As soon as Mark brings the yacht back, you two can go to Hariumat and, once you make contact, give the information to Brant.” Her tone was wistful. She probably wouldn’t have minded being Brant’s contact person. She was soppy in love with the man.
But since it was Gina who’d seen the bunkers, she was the one with the firsthand information on the virus and Cal. She tucked the papers under her tank top, making sure they were all smoothed out and wouldn’t form a bump, wouldn’t stick out anywhere. The empty marina caught her gaze as she turned and shook her head.
Apparently one of the doctors had had to go back to L.A. to assist at a private patient’s medical emergency. The chopper pilot had had a rough day and had been passed out, under the influence, so Mark had taken the doctor to the nearest airport, in Papeete, on the yacht. He was expected back by morning.
The large motorboat was over at Hariumat, taken out by one of the staff for grocery shopping. The small one had been pulled out of the water and was in the shop, since the wind the night before h
ad slammed it against the pier too hard and damaged the bottom.
“I’m off to find Cal.” Gina moved toward the door.
“And we’ll finish the weapon inventory,” Carly said.
They’d started making a list of the people on the island who had weapons that they’d seen—never openly but as bulges under shirts—and who didn’t. They were also trying to discover where weapon caches were scattered.
“I’ll ask Cal what he knows about the weapon situation on the island.” She hadn’t thought of that while they’d been together on the mountain. There were too many things to keep in mind.
She stepped outside and scanned the beach for him, holding her breath as she was hit by the beauty of the setting sun over the ocean. There were a handful of people on the beach, going about their business, one guy carrying a stack of lumber.
Cal’s tall, muscular figure wasn’t hard to spot. He was talking to one of Tsernyakov’s men. Gina pushed away the flash of doubt that surfaced. She had to believe him. They needed him. If he was the enemy, he could have tried to take her out on the mountain. And if he’d betrayed them since they’d gotten back from the mountain, her team would be at the bottom of the ocean by now.
He wore nothing but wet swim trunks. He’d been out in the water. The setting sun glinted off his skin, playing on the muscles of his back. She wished she’d come earlier so they could have gone for a swim together. She usually did that with Anita, Carly and Sam in the mornings, but this morning she’d been at the tower, assisting Cal.
She walked toward him, enjoying the view. After what she’d been through the last couple of years, she deserved that much. It wasn’t as if she intended to take the tentative alliance between them any further. He was nice to look at. She had nothing wrong with her eyes. End of story.
He finished the conversation with the other man as she neared, then walked toward her. “Having fun?”
She simply smiled. The other man stopped within hearing distance to kick off his sandals and started stretching. Looked as though he’d decided to enjoy a late-day swim, as well.
“Ask me to your room,” she mouthed to Cal, too impatient to wait for the guy to go into the water.
The corner of his eyes crinkled. “Patience, luv. I was getting around to that,” he said suggestively as if she weren’t simply playing a part.
She glared at him, but it couldn’t have been too effective considering she couldn’t hold back a smile.
He gathered her close and brushed his lips against hers. It’s all for show. Nothing to get excited about, she told herself, but it was too late. Heat zinged through her body. He pressed closer, his chest coming in contact with the papers under her shirt. They crinkled. One eyebrow slid up slightly. “Got something for me?”
“Oh, do I ever,” she said in her most dangerous voice. “And as soon as we’re behind closed doors, you’re going to get it.” It really was unfair that he could undo her so effortlessly.
He laughed. “I like a woman who puts it all on the line. No false modesty.” His arms tightened around her.
And then the playful look was gone from his eyes, replaced by enough heat to scorch her eyelashes. Her mouth went dry. His gaze dropped to her lips. Her knees wobbled in anticipation. Where was the steel core she’d been relying on all these years? She didn’t have time to look for it. The next second he wiped her mind clean with a thorough kiss.
HE’D MEANT TO PLAY with her a little, show off for whoever was watching, so when he took her hand and led her to his quarters it would look believable. Everyone knew they’d spent the night together on the mountain. He figured it wouldn’t take much to complete that picture so that if they spent extra time in each other’s company no one would find it suspicious.
But then he got lost in her scent and her eyes, in the feel of her in his arms. Kissing her didn’t have a thing to do with maintaining their cover.
She tasted like peanuts. Above the sheets of paper she was hiding, her breasts pressed against him through the thin material of her tank top, her nipples hardening, poking into his naked chest. It drove him a little crazy. He deepened the kiss and left nothing of her undiscovered, took everything she had.
There was a live-wire connection between them that shot off sparks if they came anywhere near each other. At least sparks in him. It frustrated him that she seemed to be able to maintain better control than he could. She wasn’t going around grabbing him every chance she got. Unfortunately.
His fingers spread on her back, frustrated by the tank top that stood between them. He wanted her skin against skin, eyes glazed and back bowed as he filled her. The image took the air out of his lungs and replaced it with fire instead. He pulled away reluctantly, grabbed her hand and strolled in the direction of his bungalow when what he wanted was to make love to her in the sunset right on the sand.
“What do you have?” he asked once the door was closed behind them. He needed to find some self-control and fast. He could not get so wrapped up in her that he would forget about his mission.
She pulled a wad of papers from under her shirt. Were her hands just a little unsure? His muscles tightened at the sight of her flat, tanned stomach. His fingertips itched to discover all that soft skin. He focused on the drawings instead.
“This is what we know so far.” Her voice was gratifyingly unsure. “We were wondering if you had anything to add.”
“I already passed a rough map on to my connection.” But he looked over her surprisingly thorough map of the island anyway. Considering the women had been here barely a few days, they had certainly been busy. He picked up a pen from the counter and made a few corrections, then moved on to the blueprints of the buildings.
“We’ll hand this over, too. The more information they have the better.” When he was done with the edits, he recorded each sheet of paper with his camera pen. Then he rolled them up, took them to the stove and turned on a burner, lit them, walking the burning sheets to the toilet. He changed into dry shorts and a T-shirt while he was in the bathroom.
“I should go,” she said when he walked back out.
“Let’s talk about tomorrow.” He wasn’t ready to let her go. It was a pleasure just to watch her.
“We go as soon as Mark brings back the yacht,” she said with a what-is-there-to-talk-about shrug, but she stayed where she was.
“How about a drink?” He headed toward the kitchen.
“Stirred not shaken?” She grinned.
“Whatever you want.” And he didn’t just mean the drink.
“Mango juice would be fine.”
“Great. Now how am I supposed to get you drunk and have my way with you?”
“Cal, I—” She’d come after him into the kitchen.
He handed her a glass. “Try this.” He didn’t want her to finish the sentence, which was bound to be some explanation about why the two of them together wasn’t a good idea.
Bloody hell, he knew that. They had little in common. They had different goals in life on different continents. She probably wanted a husband and kids to get going on the whole family thing she’d missed out on while she’d been in prison. He was never going to marry again. His first wife had left him flayed when she quit. Not an experience a sane man cared to repeat.
But couldn’t they just play along for the moment?
“I’ve never met a woman to whom I had this kind of an instant gut reaction. I’m keen on exploring it a bit further.” Why wasn’t she? “What would be the harm?” There, he’d laid his cards on the table.
“Your timing sucks.”
“Somebody is waiting for you back home?” His jaw clenched tight at the thought.
“My family. No significant other, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“It was.” He stepped closer.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she said but didn’t back away, which gave him hope.
“Give me one good reason why.”
“We’re on a dangerous mission.”
“What i
f we’re killed tomorrow? We could make a hell of a last memory tonight.”
She grinned and shook her head. “Does that work in British pubs? Somehow I remember double-oh-seven being smoother.”
“You’re throwing me off my game,” he admitted, wanting to be frightfully clever and not quite managing. She took away his ability to think. “You’re beautiful.”
“That’s supposed to be a smoother line? Not very creative.” She drew up an eyebrow, not looking impressed.
He let his voice drop when he said, “I’m thinking about a number of exceedingly creative things I would like to do with you tonight.”
Her eyes went wide. Was that heat flashing across her face?
He reached for her shoulders, then let his hands slide down her arms, along the silky naked skin, until he reached her hands and could hold them.
The sound of footsteps on crushed stone came through his open window, drawing his attention. He glanced out, hating to have to take his gaze from her.
“Sergey.” He nodded toward the man who was heading for the women’s bungalow, glancing around surreptitiously at the now-empty beach.
“What does he want?” she asked when he stopped by their front window and looked in.
“Who’s home?”
“Nobody. The others are trying to figure out what the weapon situation is. I was going to ask you about it. If you know how much there is and where the stash is kept.”
“I know some,” he said, keeping his eye on the man. It was hard to make out what he was doing from this distance. “We’d better go and see what he’s up to,” he said and headed for the door.
They kept to the shadows and found coverage in an old-fashioned wooden changing booth that was close enough to the women’s bungalow to keep an eye on the man. Trouble was, the walls started a good foot and a half off the ground. Sergey would see their feet if he looked that way. The bench wasn’t wide enough for them to sit side by side with their legs pulled up, the booth not tall enough for them to stand on the bench.
He got up anyway, bending deeply. The wood creaked. They held their breaths.
“Come on,” he whispered.
