She did not know how to deal with a hit man.
Her fingers hovered over 9-1-1 on her keypad. Her father had taught her to trust the men and women in uniform, but they’d betrayed him, and her personal experiences hadn’t been great. Once law enforcement realized Scarlett and her mother believed Richard Stone was innocent despite his guilty plea, cops had little sympathy. However, a congressman’s daughter had been kidnapped so rescuing her would be a priority…assuming they believed her story and arrived in the next five minutes.
Dammit.
There was also the minor fact that if the police discovered what she’d tried to do tonight, she would go to jail. With her father’s cancer progressing rapidly, she might not get out in time to say goodbye. She might never see him again.
What a fool.
She didn’t think the Russians would kill her for trying to plant a bug, especially when she’d messed up so spectacularly. The Cold War was over and she hadn’t gleaned any secrets, big or small. Maybe they’d scare her a little. Rough her up. Try and get her to work for them, give them the heads up on a few technological advances not written up in the peer-review journals.
They’d definitely punish her, but she could take it. She shivered harder.
If Angel hadn’t been in danger she might have run away for a few days hoping they’d forget about her, but her friend had stood by Scarlett during the worst time of her life. Angel hadn’t had a clue as to what Scarlett had tried to do tonight, which made the betrayal worse.
Angel was innocent and Scarlett was stupid—a humbling role reversal.
Maybe everyone was right about letting this go. Her father had been incarcerated for fourteen years. He was going to die in prison. It would take a miracle to prove his innocence and although it might be Christmas, life was a little short on miracles.
Beg forgiveness. Get Angel to safety. Take her punishment. Concentrate on work.
She shivered as the cold wind snuck between her scarf and her skin. Voices echoed from near the ferry terminal. She peered into the darkness but saw nothing.
The parking lot had two empty cars in it and the trails seemed deserted. Maybe she’d come to the wrong place? She bit her lip. She’d checked the sign and this was the place the man had specified. As she peered into the distance, she saw a gang of youths enter the park from the southern entrance near the road. Crap. She slipped further into the shadows and hoped her heart didn’t give out from the stress. This cloak and dagger stuff wasn’t good for her health. Who in their right mind would want to be a spy?
She didn’t think the gang had seen her. With shaking hands, she sank to the base of a tree and hugged herself, wishing she’d obeyed her instincts and never gone near the Russians.
It was up to the kidnapper to make the next move.
* * *
The quiet rush of the Potomac flowing close-by drowned out any telltale sounds. The boat club was nearby, the Georgetown Ferry terminus due west, but at this time of night this area was quiet and dark. A group of gang-bangers moved further along the trails—if they were looking for trouble they were probably going to find it, but not from him. Matt slipped on the NVGs and stood silently scoping out the area in flattened green monotone. The wind whistled through the branches overhead as he wound his way carefully around sturdy tree trunks. Every sense was on high alert for Scarlett Stone, Angel LeMay, or the kidnapper. Alex Parker should be around the other side of the lot by now. Matt didn’t see any sign of the man, though he knew he was there.
He spotted something. A figure huddled at the base of a tree, arms wrapped protectively around itself. He scanned the rest of the area but saw nothing. Two cars sat in the lot but both appeared empty. Carefully he edged closer to the hunched figure. Was it someone involved in Scarlett’s mess, or just a homeless person looking for a quiet place out of the bitter wind? He couldn’t tell what was in their hands. Were they armed? His hand rested on his SIG Sauer, ready to pull his weapon if they spotted him.
The light of a cell phone revealed the delicate features of a young woman—Scarlett Stone. But in the NVGs, the glare was so bright he had to blink and look away. A second later the sound of a high-power rifle shot tore through the night.
Goddammit.
Scarlett yelped and rolled to the side, then scrambled into a crouched run as another shot scored the trunk where she’d been sitting just a moment earlier. Matt raced flat out toward her and managed to hook an arm and drag her behind a tree just wide enough to shelter them both. She screamed so he clamped a hand over her mouth and hauled her against him. She struggled furiously and he could barely hold on.
“Keep still, dammit. I’m not going to hurt you,” he growled in her ear.
She went stiff as a corpse.
Did she recognize his voice from earlier tonight? The idea gave him a strange sense of savage satisfaction. He didn’t know why it mattered. She was a job now, nothing more. Her head strained against his hand, trying to look up at his face, but it was too dark for her to see anything and he was wearing goggles.
He shifted, trying to get a view of who was out there. Parker had to be somewhere close-by. Matt held still, giving the other man the opportunity to get into position, knowing he was also giving the shooter time to reposition for a better angle. The idea someone was lining him up in their sights didn’t sit easy, but it wasn’t the first time he’d been caught in the crossfire.
Time to go. “We’re going to run to the right and get deeper into the trees.”
“But they—”
He put his hand back over her mouth and carried her. It was faster than arguing. Five yards and they reached a large oak, but Matt wanted to move further out of range so he kept going. The sound of a second shot and sharp scrape of a bullet across his shoulder told him the gunman was good, and he was cutting it close. He piled behind a massive silver birch and dropped Scarlett to her feet, held her tight against him. Then he switched positions so she was pinned to the trunk and he was covering her front. She barely reached his shoulders but every inch felt achingly female.
The scent of her hit him, the sweet citrus of lemons, an unwanted reminder from earlier tonight when he’d been interested in the contents of her underwear for totally different reasons.
Too bad.
He didn’t know where the shooter was, but he was guessing across the creek, possibly in one of the condos.
“Matt? Is that you?” she whispered.
“FBI Special Agent Lazlo.”
Her gasp of surprise seemed genuine enough. He could see her face clearly in the NVGs. Maybe she hadn’t played him from the start.
“How did you know I was here? I-I don’t understand.” The uncertainty in her voice suggested she thought his attention earlier had been part of a set-up.
He wished that were true. He wished she’d been the dupe in all this.
“Your little stunt at the Russian Ambassador’s place was caught on camera.” She drew in a shocked breath that pressed her breasts against him and made certain parts of his body pay attention. “You managed to piss off more people than you can possibly imagine with your antics—”
“But how did you find me here?” she asked urgently, ignoring his pissed off lecture. “Someone tapped into my cell’s GPS?”
He shrugged, not about to admit something that was technically illegal without a warrant.
“Did you know they have Angelina?” She squirmed, trying to gain a little breathing room, but managed to brush more closely against certain areas of his body that didn’t understand the difference between a firefight and sex. She froze for a moment and then ignored it. “You have to let me go meet them,” she insisted. “He must have seen you and assumed I’d called the cops. If I can just explain—”
A bullet ripped into the trunk just inches from his head. He crowded her closer to the trunk, his body pressed hard into hers, determined to protect her despite the fact she’d put herself in this position. “I don’t think this guy came to negotiate, Scarlett.”
After thirty seconds of rigid tension, she stretched up on tiptoe and whispered in his ear. “I’m sorry I lied to you.”
Her breath was warm against his neck and sent a shiver of reaction over his flesh. The woman did something to him, but he wasn’t dumb enough to show it. “I don’t care about your name.” Another lie, because he hated being deceived, although he was used to it by now. “Why try to bug the Russians. Why Dorokhov?”
Those dark eyes were enormous now. Her mouth opened and closed repeatedly.
Someone was shooting at them and she was holding back? “Spit it out.”
“My father is…”
“Richard Stone, the spy.”
She shoved against him again, but he wasn’t going anywhere. He didn’t enjoy physically intimidating women, but he was making an exception in this case. She’d almost gotten killed tonight and she wasn’t out of danger yet. He wanted her scared. He wanted her compliant. He wanted her safe.
“My father is innocent.”
Matt laughed and a look of hurt flashed across her features. He softened the skepticism in his voice. “He confessed.”
“Don’t ask questions if you don’t want answers.” Her eyes narrowed, jaw firmed.
Amused, he said, “Go on.”
“My father suspected Dorokhov was involved in espionage activities in the years before he was arrested.”
“I’d have thought he’d have known the key players.”
She kicked him in the shin.
Dammit. “Assault of a federal officer on top of the spying charges? Looks like your Christmas isn’t going to be very merry, sweetheart.”
She kicked him again, harder. “In for a penny, in for a pound.”
Ouch. Goddammit.
“Shooter’s gone,” came a voice out of the darkness—Alex Parker, “but don’t let me interrupt.”
Matt looked over his shoulder and saw the man standing less than ten foot away. “You sure?”
“Drove off in a Ford sedan. I got the plate.”
“Nice.” Matt stepped away from Scarlett, not liking the way his body protested the distance. She was warm. It was a cold night.
She put her hand in her pocket and he grabbed her wrist.
“Hey!” she cried out.
He retrieved her cell, then checked the other pocket. No weapons.
“I need to try and contact the kidnapper again.” Her voice rose with agitation. “I need to get Angel to safety.”
Matt tossed the cell to Parker, who caught it in one hand. “You should have thought of that before you got her mixed up in all this.” He braced himself to do his job, took out a pair of handcuffs, and pulled one hand behind her back. Her wrists were tiny, fine-boned, and delicate. This was generally the part of the job he liked best and got to do the least.
This time it left a bitter taste in his mouth.
“Scarlett Stone, you have the right to remain silent…”
Chapter Five
FBI Special Agent Lazlo held her elbow as if she was about to make a run for it. To think she’d found him attractive earlier and mourned the idea of never seeing him again. Now she hoped she never saw him again. Being escorted handcuffed into FBI Headquarters in downtown Washington DC reminded her of every humiliation she and her family had ever endured. Was this how her father had felt? Only worse to be hauled in by his colleagues and accused of selling them out for money—of being responsible for the deaths of fellow agents abroad.
Did one get used to the bite of hard metal on soft skin? Of the condemnation and derision on people’s faces? Or was each cut and sting a fresh blow? The idea was too much to bear. The thought of her father wasting away in those conditions, without proper treatment, imprisoned for something he hadn’t done…
She’d begged him to tell her why he’d confessed, but he’d closed his eyes and refused to speak. He’d avoided the death penalty, but at what cost? Someone must have threatened her mother if he didn’t take the fall. Or her.
She wasn’t a kid anymore. She’d figured she had nothing to lose except her own freedom by trying to find the truth, but now Angel had been kidnapped and it was all her fault. She tipped her chin higher and choked down the emotions. She needed to fix this. She had to be able to find a way to make this right.
They used the back entrance of the J. Edgar Hoover building. Passing through corridors and metal detectors and security checks, each encounter more humiliating than the last. She caught Alex Parker’s eye. He gave her a slight smile. Not reassuring. More apologetic. Sympathetic. It didn’t bode well.
They reached an office area and a guy with well-groomed blond hair and the palest blue eyes she’d ever seen, looked up from where he was talking to a pretty agent with short dark hair. The guy wore full black tie and didn’t seem to care that he was overdressed for work. She must have ruined his plans for the evening—apparently, it was her night for it. His eyes rested on her cuffed arms and his brows quirked. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Parker grimace, but her jailer, Matt Lazlo, didn’t bat an eyelid. Her foot itched to kick him again.
Good-looking alpha types brimming with too much testosterone surrounded her, making her feel small and insignificant. She didn’t remember her dad’s colleagues looking like this, but then she’d been a kid. Even the female agent looked like she could kick Scarlett’s ass and look cool doing it. If Angel had been here, she’d have been flirting despite the handcuffs. But then if Angel had been here, Scarlett wouldn’t feel like someone was carving a hole through her chest with a handsaw.
She swallowed the guilt and remorse. If Angel was hurt, Scarlett would never forgive herself. They had to let her fix this. Except she knew from experience they didn’t have to do a damn thing they didn’t want to. They didn’t have to investigate her claims that her father was innocent despite his guilty plea. They didn’t have to be lenient when she’d tried to bug a foreign superpower. And they didn’t have to give a damn that she just wanted the truth.
She checked the clock on the wall and realized belatedly that this was the office where her father had once worked. They’d updated the decor and installed cubicles and gray carpeting, but the clock on the wall was exactly the same as it had been when she’d been here as a wide-eyed twelve-year-old.
“Where do you want her for interrogation, boss?” Lazlo asked.
A ball of emotion wedged in her throat. It was stupid to feel betrayed by this guy. He didn’t owe her anything. She’d lied to him. He’d saved her life. What did she expect?
The feeling was there all the same. So much for finally meeting a man she connected with. She wanted to connect all right. She wanted to connect her boot to his shin one last time.
The man in the tux approached carrying a file. “My name is Assistant Special Agent in Charge Lincoln Frazer. Let’s go into one of the interview rooms and talk, shall we?”
He was young to be in such a senior position. Definitely the politically ambitious type, which did not bode well for her. Scarlett started toward the room, knowing it would be useless to complain. These people didn’t care about her. They didn’t care about her father. She was beginning to wonder if they even cared about justice.
“Special Agent Lazlo,” ASAC Frazer said as the other man turned to walk away. One of those perfect brows rose in question. “The cuffs, please?”
Reluctantly Lazlo came up behind her and inserted the key. His skin was warm against hers. The scent of his spicy cologne drifted over her, reminding her of the illusion that had beguiled her so completely earlier. His touch was gentle despite the fact she knew he was mad at her for lying to him. Maybe they were even, after all.
“Thank you.” She rubbed the soreness from her wrists.
He paused for a moment but didn’t reply. She got it. She was the enemy now. FBI agents didn’t consort with the enemy. Whatever. Her father had been a straight shooter too, always following the rules. Ironically Ma
tt Lazlo reminded her a little of him. She wondered how far he’d spit if she told him that.
She preceded Frazer into the interview room. Lazlo came too, which surprised her. He looked out of place in his dark t-shirt, black pants, and flak jacket. More military than FBI but then he’d obviously once been in the Navy from the uniform he’d worn earlier—assuming that was real and not some sort of cover. Had he been sent to follow her at the party? That didn’t seem possible when she’d told no one of her plans to bug the ambassador.
She sat in an uncomfortable plastic chair across the table from ASAC Frazer. Lazlo positioned himself by the door. Arms crossed, leaning against a wall. The hazel eyes had lost their spark of humor. She doubted he’d ever smile at her that way again. Didn’t matter. She turned away.
“Dr. Stone,” ASAC Frazer began.
So, he knew her background. She dragged her hat off her head and stuffed it in her pocket. Pushed her hair behind her ear. God, she hoped her boss never found out about this fiasco. Her eyes flicked to the man at the door and her lips tightened. “I need to make a phone call.”
“First I need to ask you a few questions about what happened tonight—”
“Look, I get it. I did it.” She leaned forward, hands fisted on the tabletop. “But my friend has been kidnapped. You need to get out there and find her. She had nothing to do with any of this.”
“You didn’t tell her your intentions?”
She shook her head.
“And it was pure chance she asked you to go with her to that party and lied to her parents about it?”
“She wanted to go, so she accepted on behalf of her and her sister. Then Sarah went off on some trekking adventure in the desert so she asked me instead. She thought it would be fun and knew they wouldn’t let me near the place under normal circumstances—”
“For obvious reasons,” Lazlo piped up. Smartass.
Scarlett tapped her nails impatiently on the surface of the table. “Angel is always trying to get me to socialize, but I usually say no.”
“This time you didn’t?”
Cold Light of Day Page 6
