by MJ Rodgers
But instead, he suddenly felt her hands grabbing the edges and pulling down, her body stiffening as she drew away from him.
“A.J., what’s wrong?” He heard the raggedness of his breath along with surprise echoing in his ears.
In response, she stepped farther back, out of his arms. “I…this is a mistake.”
He couldn’t seem to catch his breath or his thoughts. He tried to make sense of her words. A mistake? He concentrated on her face. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes beacons of blue fire, calling to him. He would have answered that call and brought her into his arms except that he also saw the flicker of another emotion darting inside their flame. Its presence stunned him.
“You’re afraid to make love to me?”
She laughed as she stepped farther back, only the laugh had a chilling, unearthly sound. Her voice was no longer husky, but hoarse.
“Make love. Have you ever considered what an incredibly silly euphemism that is? Love isn’t something you can make by rolling two bodies together like dough.”
Slowly, his breath was returning. And his wits. She was afraid. Why?
“I don’t really think it’s the phraseology that’s bothering you. Talk to me. Tell me what this is all about.”
“It’s simple. I don’t want anything…physical between us.”
“It’s too late for that, A.J.”
She retreated a step. “No. It’s not.”
He took a step toward her, reached out his hand. “A.J.-”
She circled to the other side of the small room, speaking quickly, sharply.
“I understand your wife died in some street accident. Is that what happened?”
Zane halted dead in his tracks. The question had been hurtled toward him from out of nowhere, like a bolt of lightning. The shock of it singed his thoughts and left a burned taste on his tongue.
“Yes,” he said, still in shock. “That was what happened.”
“A little over three years ago now, right?”
Zane did not easily answer questions about that time in his life. It was too filled with pain and loss. And he found it even more difficult when the questions were being asked by a woman with eyes as smooth and emotionless as sheets of ice. Had there really been a moment of warmth or a flicker of fear in them earlier? Or had that merely been a trick of the light?
“Yes, A.J., three years ago, as you obviously know.”
Her husky voice drifted toward him calmly, coolly, indifferently, he thought. “You became a loner after she died. Is that because her death broke your heart?”
Zane sucked in a very deep breath and slowly let it out. Why in the hell was she asking these questions? What was she trying to prove? Did she really want to know?
“Yes, A.J., I’m a loner now because my wife’s death broke my heart. And I will remain a loner. With Lynn, I knew the best of love. Nothing else will ever compare, so I don’t waste my time looking for what cannot be found.”
She didn’t react to his honesty—not at all. Here she had insisted on bringing up the most painful and personal part of his past, and her face remained a mask of icy-cool indifference. Zane felt the anger surge through him.
“You had a fiancé once upon a time,” he said, striking back. “I understand he took off with your brother’s wife right before your wedding. I suppose he broke your heart? I suppose that’s why you’re a loner now, too, right?”
He watched his words register like small fissures, cracking the paper-thin ice in her eyes. From beneath their pale surface, deep blue bruises suddenly surfaced.
“Yes, that’s exactly what happened,” she said, on the heels of an unearthly, chilling laugh. “You say you’ve known the best of love, Zane, and there’s no more to be found. Well, I’ve known the worst of love, and I’m certain plenty more of that can be found, which is why I don’t go looking.”
Tardy understanding struck Zane like a blow.
She was afraid of the force of the attraction between them, so afraid, in fact, that she had selected a subject she thought might be effective in keeping him at a distance.
She had selected well.
She had goaded him into hurting her. Deliberately. And, like a fool, he had let it happen. He shook his head and sighed in disgust.
“We’re two of a kind all right, both prickly as porcupines. I’m sorry, A.J. I didn’t mean to bring up anything that might cause you discomfort.”
As he watched, the bruises disappeared behind the reflective, icy, pale blue mirrors that had once again become her eyes.
“Oh, you meant it.”
She was right, of course. But he’d do anything now if he could take it back. He started toward her. “A.J.—”
She quickly moved out of reach.
“Look, I’ve come here to clear my brother. You say our teaming will help. I’m convinced you are right. But this is a professional liaison only. There can be nothing personal between us.”
Except Zane knew there already was. She could deny it as vehemently as she liked, but what was between them was very personal…and it wasn’t going away.
What’s more, he didn’t want it to go away. He wanted her. More than he had wanted anyone or anything in a very long time. And that wanting made him feel more alive than he had felt in a very long time.
But the force of the attraction between them had obviously caught her unaware. He’d give her time to get used to it. All the time she needed. He had no intention of rushing her and making another mistake. She was worth waiting for. And he was a patient man.
“SO, WHAT’S THE STORY on this guy with the possible alias?” Linbow asked Clarise.
“He initiated a conversation with another patron on the plane, a Margaret Lane. My informant couldn’t hear everything they said, but from several of the looks this Lane woman gave Cranston, it appears she wasn’t all that pleased at his attention. Apparently, he’s using the similarity of their names to the characters from an old radio show as an excuse to hit on her.”
“They have the same names as characters from an old radio show and they sat together? That’s too coincidental. They must be working together.”
“No, if they were working together, it would be pretty dumb for them to pick those names and sit together. Too obvious.”
“What was the dinner conversation like?”
“The usual talk about fantasies. There were a few questions about the suit.”
“From Cranston?”
“No, from the woman. She wanted to know what people thought about the case, that sort of thing. Typical gossipy stuff.”
“Where is Cranston now?”
“In his room, I guess.”
“You don’t know?”
“My informant couldn’t hang outside his door and draw his attention. But when Cranston traipsed off after the Lane woman after dinner, Tripp took the opportunity to plant a bug in his room and rig his door. Don’t worry. He’s not going to be doing anything we won’t find out about.”
Chapter Nine
“I’d be very surprised if someone was actually sitting in some room somewhere staring at the input from those surveillance cameras,” Zane whispered to A.J. as they approached the front door.
She glanced at him. He had used white tape to attach the white jumper to the back of his white sweats. He’d done a good job. From the rear it would be hard to tell he wasn’t actually wearing the uniform.
“I agree,” she whispered. “The cameras are probably there to record in-and-out movement for later scrutiny. In these white uniforms and keeping our backs to the cameras, we should be able to exit looking like staff.”
He surveyed the area as he crouched just in front of her. She found her eyes traveling to those well-defined back muscles. And that incredibly hard waist. The remembered feel of him holding her so tightly, kissing her so thoroughly, washed over her once again, making her tremble. She had wanted him so much that the wanting was all she had thought about for those several exhilarating seconds her heart had pounded against h
is. Thank God her brain had finally kicked in.
Zane had made it clear that what he was after wasn’t love. He’d already had that. The best of it. She could still hear the simple eloquence of truth in his words.
A man who could love with such depth was a tremendous draw to her. He was also a tremendous danger. Because he already had his once-in-a-lifetime love.
A.J. didn’t know what a little passion was, never had, never would—not in her work life, not in her love life. The strength of her passion had sent her soaring to the top of her profession.
It had also plunged her to the depths of despair in her one and only love affair. Because she had not been loved in return.
She would not let that happen again. She had purposely avoided all emotional entanglements during the past seven years. She would avoid this one now.
Zane had accused her of being afraid. Well, she was afraid. And she was going to go right on being afraid. Fear could be a damn healthy thing when it kept one from disaster.
“What are we going to do about that red light above the door?” she asked, deliberately diverting her thoughts from Zane. “No doubt it’s designed to set off an alarm if someone tries to leave the building.”
“Yes, it was green when we came in this afternoon. They’ve obviously activated the alarm to make sure we stay in.” His eyes scanned the walls. “There must be a local control box around here somewhere.”
“There would have to be in order for the staff to control the comings and goings,” A.J. agreed.
“You notice anything?”
“Only thing I see is this thermostat box, which tempts me to break it open and see if I can shut down the fans blasting that moist air from outside through every one of these damn vents.”
“Yes, this conditioned air is amazingly moist,” Zane agreed. “Maybe their filters aren’t up to circulating the heavy marine air. What are you doing?”
A.J. had begun to spread her hands across the walls. “Do you suppose Linbow embedded the control panel for the alarm in the wall, as he did his computer monitor in his office?”
“If he did, that would mean the staff members would have to be equipped with a remote control unit. These jumpers don’t have pockets, and I didn’t see a remote unit clipped to a belt on any of the staff, did you?”
A.J. dropped her hands from the wall. “Point made.”
“Still, the control unit must be here somewhere,” Zane said. “We have to think like Linbow.”
Zane stepped back to study the hallway from a new perspective.
“Yes,” A.J. agreed, doing the same. “In his office not only was his computer monitor embedded in a wall, even the locks on his desk drawers weren’t key operated. And the system unit for his computer was part of the desk.”
“All of which tells us he has a habit of camouflaging things well.”
“What if we’re looking at the control unit and don’t even realize it?” A.J. said suddenly, as an idea struck her.
She reached up and pried off the clear plastic covering the thermostat control. She punched the air-conditioning on switch to off and stepped back. The blast of air above them continued unabated, but the light above the door went from red to green.
Zane’s whisper followed. “That’s my divining rod.”
A.J. felt the complimentary nickname slipping over her skin like a tender approving touch. “Let’s go,” she whispered, thoroughly irritated with her reaction.
“No, wait a minute,” Zane said as he approached the control unit. He brought a small screwdriver out of his pocket, pried open the casing and fiddled with one of the wires. Then he replaced the casing, took the clear plastic covering out of A.J.’s hands and set the unit in place on the wall.
“What did you just do?” she asked.
“Tried to make it look like the switch short-circuited and that’s why the alarm didn’t sound. If someone comes along before we get back and notices the green light, they might think the system just malfunctioned.”
A.J. nodded her approval. They walked in front of the cameras, careful to keep their backs to them as they quickly stepped outside the building.
She immediately pulled off her jumpsuit, not wanting to soil it. She wrapped it in a couple of towels she’d brought along for that purpose and stowed it next to the entrance. Zane untaped the jumpsuit from his sweats and then pulled them off, too, revealing a black set beneath. He placed them on top of hers.
The low-wattage lights mounted on the sides of the building barely penetrated the dark night encroaching all around them. A.J. faced the building, looking up the sheer metal side they were going to have to climb. The cool breeze that caressed her cheeks tasted far fresher to her than the heavy, dank air inside.
“Keep the door partway open and let me know if anyone comes running at the noise this is going to make,” Zane whispered beside her.
A.J. nodded. She saw his hand disappear inside his black jacket and come out an instant later with a thin nylon rope sporting a sturdy plastic hook on its end. He stepped back, twirled it like a cowboy getting ready to rope a steer and then let it loose. It landed on the roof with a muffled thump. He gave the rope a tug.
“It’s wrapped securely around an exhaust vent,” he whispered. “Anyone coming to investigate the noise?”
A.J. glanced quickly into the entrance hallway through the very small opening in the door. “Everything’s quiet. I don’t think anyone is at the front of the building at this time of night.”
“Good. Let’s hope they stay away,” Zane whispered beside her. “Divining rods first.”
“No, you go. I’ll keep watch.”
“As you wish.”
She kept her attention focused on the entrance hall as Zane silently climbed the wall. He gained the roof in no time, proving that he was in just as good shape as he looked.
After one last check to be sure no one was coming, A.J. quietly let the entrance door squeeze shut and dug into her pocket for her thin leather gloves. As soon as she had slipped them on her hands, she took a couple of deep breaths, grabbed the nylon rope and started to climb.
She was three-fourths of the way up when the pain finally brought her to a complete stop.
Her wounds had begun to hurt straight off, but now her right arm was nothing but a shaking throb of pain. Sweat was leaking out of every pore of her body. She gritted her teeth, hating the weakness washing over her. She inhaled deeply and concentrated on gathering every ounce of waning strength.
She had never retreated from a physical challenge in her life. She wasn’t about to begin now.
Those last few feet to the top of the roof were pure agony, but she made it. Zane’s strong arm circled her waist and held her shaking body steady on the dome-shaped metal roof until she found a secure foothold.
“Thanks,” she said, barely able to get the word out.
She took a moment to catch her breath and get her bearings as Zane wound the rope. It was darker on the roof, above the lights that peppered the sides of the building. Gradually, the pain in her arm retreated to a dull ache and her eyes adjusted to the natural light of a half moon hanging in the clear night sky.
She could see the long shadows of tree branches stretching in the breeze. She could hear waves crashing over rocks on a nearby shore. The air sweeping off the ocean was stronger and saltier at this height. It plastered her sweats to her body. As she buttoned her jacket against the cold, she could feel Zane’s eyes on her.
“Your wound is bothering you,” he said, stowing the rope inside his jacket.
“Just a twinge,” she lied.
“An arm wound like yours takes a long time to heal, particularly when it’s on your dominant side.”
His words brought her eyes to his face. “How did you know about the wound?”
“The story was in-all the newspapers, A.J.”
“The fact that I was shot was in the newspapers, but not that I was hit in my right arm.”
“You were also hit in your right side, wh
ich wasn’t mentioned, either. Did you forget I’m a detective? Come on. We have some sensors to avoid.”
He turned toward the back of the building, crouched until he was nearly flat with the surface, put on his special glasses and started forward. He stayed low as he slowly led the way. His movements were sure and confident. His lack of hesitation told A.J. that his glasses were picking up the sensors. She concentrated on matching his movements exactly.
Working with him did give her a much-improved chance for success. He had clearly been on this case a lot longer than she, and the quality of both his resources and his planning were impressive.
They reached the end of the building. Zane stared into the chasm between the building and the volcanic rock face and then easily jumped the gap, landing, firm and sure like a mountain goat, on a narrow flat part of the rock.
“Careful,” he called. “The night moisture has made the rock slick.”
A.J. nodded and moved back to give herself a running start. She landed with minimal jarring, her rubber-soled shoes slipping only slightly on the surface.
“Okay?” Zane asked beside her.
She straightened, her footing secure. “Fine.”
Zane led the way over the rock face, avoiding the sensors he could see with his special glasses. Once again, A.J. matched his movements.
When they reached the rock ledge, Zane halted above it and slipped a hand into the pocket of his jacket. He pulled out a mirror, opened the attached metal rod until it extended several feet, then leaned the mirror over the ledge.
A.J. drew close to see what the mirror was picking up.
“It’s an opening in the rock, all right,” she whispered excitedly. “There’s an iron gate in front of it with a digital key lock. And no surveillance cameras.”
“But there is a minor problem.”
“What?” A.J. asked, leaning closer.
In answer he took off his glasses and handed them to her. For the first time in many hours she realized she could smell his distinctive sandalwood and sage scent. She inhaled deeply before the foolishness of her act had time to register in her brain.
