“Or three, the driver-bomber got cold feet, and the bomb went off by remote.” she said. “Any of which means the remote holder was there. Was someone we know.”
“Nadim or Prince Amir or one of the staff? Damn.”
“I’ve been over and over all this with the team. To no conclusion but one.”
“And what’s that?”
“If we could find out how they got the house plans, we’d have the link to Husam Al-Din.”
“And time is running out.” Gingerly, he lifted his T-shirt away from his bandaged back and over his head. He began to unfasten her pants. “You can do no more tonight, latrea mou. You need to get off your feet.”
Before she could recall why she should leave him, his mouth came down on hers and burned every thought from her brain. Mindless joy swept through her, liquid heat in the onslaught. No, she could do no more. Nor did she have power to walk away from him tonight. Why did she ever think she could?
Bending, he kissed his way up her belly and torso, peeling away her bra and sweater as he went. The fiery demands of his mouth, hands and body ignited flames within her. She dropped onto the bed and pulled him down with her.
Something crinkled and crackled beneath them.
“What’s all this? You were working in bed?” she said, laughing and pushing at the papers.
He scooped up the obstructions and tossed them to the floor. “It’s the damn New Dawn sales list. I thought I might find items he kept.”
“Something worth about ten million dollars?” With an index finger, she smoothed his brow, crimped again with frustration. “Didn’t find it, did you?”
He plucked her hand away and kissed her palm. “I fell asleep dreaming of Chinese cabinets and Assyrian plaques and you. I—”
“What? What did you say?” She sat up, trying to dial a vague memory into clear focus.
“I was dreaming of you. Naked, if you must know.”
Her system swamped with sensation, she struggled to think. “No, no, the other part.”
“What? The Chinese cabinets and Assyrian plaques? You know, from the list.”
She smiled, a self-satisfied Cheshire-cat smile. She knew who’d given the map to New Dawn. But nothing more could be done tonight.
About that, anyway.
“What is it?” One brow quirked up. He lay at an angle across the Washington-mall-size bed, his desire for her evident in the prominent bulge in his jeans. One hand propped up his head and the other stroked her bare breast.
She gave herself over to his sensuous caresses and the heated need coursing through her body. “Nothing that won’t wait until morning.”
Tomorrow she’d confront a traitor and probe the U.S. Army’s layers of secrecy.
But tonight was for the two of them.
She helped him skim out of his jeans and briefs. Careful of his injuries, she caressed his buttocks and slid her palms up his sides as he rolled on top of her. Sighing, she kissed his nipples and reveled in his rock-hard weight and furnace-like heat.
Her heart swelled with love, and her body tingled with excitement. “Nick, what about creativity?”
“Later. Innovation can wait,” he rasped, thrusting home. “Vanessa, I need you.”
Chapter 18
WHEN NICK STEPPED into the garage, a brand-new, sweet, midnight-blue Mercedes waited for him. He’d called yesterday afternoon, and the dealer happened to have one in the showroom.
DARK promised to cover his loss once the operation ended, but delay in replacing his wheels wasn’t an option. They might need the power and security this vehicle offered.
Their driver appeared at the door from the kitchen. He was polishing off one of Janine’s apricot muffins. “Morning, Mr. Markos.”
“Good morning, McNair. No aftereffects of yesterday’s drug to hurt your appetite?”
A wide grin split the man’s dark face. “Nothing affects my appetite. Good thing too. That woman is one fine cook.”
Vanessa’s heels clicked on the cement as she entered. He turned to admire the curves he knew so intimately hugged by the sexy green knit dress he favored. When her hand reached for his, the tenderness threaded all the way to his heart. She was sunshine and joy. He’d settled on Danielle, not knowing what else could be. Vanessa’s warmth and influence had him reexamining his priorities. And his life.
Pain gnawed in his gut that she would walk out of his life when this was over. A future without her in it looked bleak, as empty as the black hole he’d been carrying around inside for ten years. He couldn’t let that happen. Perhaps success in this mission would restore enough of his lost honor so he’d have a life he felt he could share.
She smiled at her DARK colleague. “Good morning, J.T. You’re lucky to be eating Janine’s cooking for free. Someday she’s going to have a restaurant.”
Unabashed, McNair licked the apricot stickiness from his fingers. “Mmm, I’ll be her first customer.”
Nick opened the rear car door. “Just don’t let your stomach distract you from your job.”
Not that he was the man to advise anyone about distractions. Vanessa Wade distracted the hell out of him.
“No, sir. You’re safe with me at the wheel.” All at once somber, the DARK driver flapped a small salute. “My nap shut me out of yesterday’s fireworks, but I’m not interested in a rerun. No sparks, shells or salvos of any kind today, please the good Lord.”
Vanessa eased into the car. “Except for the one we’re about to set off.”
***
At Markos Imports Nick met with the two remaining staff, Celia Chin and Emil Alfieris, to go over the last inventory and accounts. In spite of their pleas and Abdul Nadim’s finagling, he would sell.
He needed to rid himself of the constant reminder of his brother’s dishonor. Running a business he had no expertise in made no sense. And spreading his business interests too thinly would risk everything he’d built.
The three of them worked at the conference table while Vanessa observed from the ring of comfortable chairs.
The employees barely tolerated him, the executioner, but they loved her. The minute they’d walked in the door, she’d greeted them with personal comments. Celia had shoved her family photos in Vanessa’s face, and Emil had smoothed back his overlong black hair and lit up like Times Square on New Year’s Eve. She kept them all supplied with coffee while they talked.
Vanessa instinctively knew the right word, the right touch so people’s personal concerns and joys poured out of them like warm syrup. She cared and showed it in ways he’d bet most people didn’t perceive or appreciate.
He, on the other hand, was all business. Hell, he was the one paying Alexei’s employees’ salaries. But it was her sympathy and genuineness that kept them doing their jobs with some semblance of conscientiousness.
He had to give the two employees credit for moving around what little stock they had to make the showroom attractive. As the meeting concluded, he told them if he didn’t conclude a deal within the next week, the shop inventory would be folded into the house auction.
Celia’s mouth thinned with disapproval, but she merely nodded. She would likely accepted the inevitable. Emil stared at the floor like a man who didn’t care.
“I’m sorry a sale hasn’t worked out to keep you both on at Markos Imports,” Nick said, “but my recommendations should help you obtain new positions soon. We’ll stay open the rest of the week. Then you’ll have two weeks’ severance.” He stood to signal the conclusion of the meeting.
“I should tell you, Mr. Markos,” Celia began, “that I have found another position. Bethesda Antiques and Antiquities needed a new manager.”
“Congratulations. That’s excellent,” he said, greatly relieved.
“Thank you for your recommendation.” The slender Chinese woman made a small, graceful bow and glided from the room.
“And you, Emil?” Vanessa asked, moseying around the desk.
The bird-l
ike man shrugged as he backed toward the door. A smile tugged at his mouth, but didn’t materialize. “I have a few options. Nothing definite.”
She linked her arm with one of Emil’s and led him back to an armchair. “I was telling Nick how clever you were to recognize the Ming vase.”
“Shows some real expertise,” Nick said. “My brother must’ve relied on you to authenticate and price many items.” He settled into a blue brocade chair to watch her finesse the scrawny bastard into folding his cards.
Emil fingered his red bow tie and puffed out his chest. “He was an expert in many areas, but I do have my specialties.”
Vanessa perched on the third chair. She smiled sweetly. “Like Chinese art and antiques? Maybe furniture?”
His head and his Adam’s apple bobbed in tandem. “I spent a few years in the Orient. Learned a lot firsthand from native experts.”
“So naturally, when Alexei needed authentication of some antique Chinese cabinets last year, you were his man.”
The assistant manager’s pale eyes darted from one to the other of them. Vanessa’s expression of open curiosity and Nick’s relaxed pose and mask of casual interest appeared to satisfy him. “Well, there were a few.”
“Fascinating,” she cooed. “With ivory inlay and fancy decorations?”
Her low, sexy voice spiked Nick’s blood pressure. He didn’t like another man being her focus, even as a pretense. His muscles knotted, but he restrained himself. Give the man plenty of rope…
“Yes,” the assistant manager finally answered with a smug smile. “There was one in particular. A game box.”
“What do you mean?”
“A box about the size of that printer on the desk. With ivory and jade inlay in a dragon design. It opened into a dozen small compartments with ivory game pieces, dice and boards. Mahjong, chess and others.”
“Wonderful,” she gushed. “I remember in the records there were Assyrian plaques and statues of gods and goddesses. Is that another area of your special expertise?”
Nick couldn’t prevent a smile. The woman was reducing the poor little man to a fawning puppy with her sexy voice and big green eyes, and she believed males considered her a buddy. He’d gladly spend years convincing her otherwise.
Fortunately the other man took Nick’s smile as encouragement. The preening peacock puffed out his chest. “I wish. The Assyrian pieces were prime finds. Alexei handled those himself. Him and that woman from the museum.” He gave a disdainful sniff. “I personally thought they were worth more than he got for them. Particularly the plaque.”
“What was special about the plaque?”
“A most unusual item. Ivory. Of a lion killing a Nubian. Probably one of a kind.”
She folded her hands in her lap and nodded in satisfaction. “I hope Alexei appreciated what a valuable asset he had in you.”
The foolish man had the grace to blush. “I guess.”
Nick held his breath as she zeroed in for the kill.
“You should’ve been well paid for your expertise and your efforts. Did he give you a cut of his commission from New Dawn, or did they pay you separately?”
No proud peacock now, Emil looked more like a banty rooster that had lost a cockfight. He shrank into the chair. His flush leached away. Beads of sweat formed at his temples. “I don’t know what you mean.”
She patted his arm again. “No, really. A man of your talents must’ve been properly compensated.” When he didn’t reply right away, she recoiled, a shocked expression rounding her mouth. She turned to Nick with a crusader’s zeal in her eyes. “Nicky, sweetheart, we really must do something if Alexei shortchanged dear Emil.”
Nicky? Nick’s brain scrambled to keep up. “Speak up, man. Did my brother cheat you?”
Dollar signs scrolled across the man’s pupils. His Adam’s apple made a slow journey up and down his chicken throat as he swallowed his discretion. Ah, greed. The great motivator. “I was paid for a few of the extra jobs I did. But not for all of them.”
Nick waited. Patient silence often lubricated tongues.
“Alexei paid me no extra. The other, the New Dawn man, he paid me a commission. I have no records. You understand.”
Nick understood, all right. Like his brother, this worm had trafficked with the terrorists. But unlike Alexei, he was lucky to be alive. So far. Nick set down his coffee cup before he crushed it into bits. “Of course.”
Vanessa smiled. “And tell me, did New Dawn pay you handsomely for delivering the plans of the Chevy Chase house?”
As her words sank in, his face frosted over like a shallow puddle in a cold snap. “What are you talking about?”
“Those plans were to guide their agents to my bedroom. You’re very lucky they weren’t successful. The money they paid you would’ve made you an accomplice to kidnapping or murder.”
Fear and guilt slid across his weasel face. “No. I never…”
“Ah, but you did.” The even, unemotional delivery belied her accusatory words. “Fifty thousand dollars is a hefty deposit. Clever of you stashing it in a shiny new bank account in Chevy Chase Trust, far from your regular bank.”
“Too bad you won’t get to use it.” Nick leaned forward, his hands loose on his knees, his weight balanced, ready.
Emil jerked to his feet, but his knees knocked like two saplings in a windstorm. “You can’t threaten me. You’re just guessing.”
Vanessa made sympathetic clucking sounds. “Emil, if you’re going to lead a life of crime, you should be more discreet. The day we inventoried the house, you mentioned the Chinese chest and the Assyrian plaque. I didn’t remember until last night that Alexei sold those items on behalf of the terrorists. That list isn’t public knowledge. A quick search this morning found your new bank account.”
“What is it they say?” Nick said. “Follow the money.”
The banty rooster mustered some bravado for another round. “It’s just your word. You have no proof I did anything illegal for that money.”
“Ah, but you just gave us proof, Emil,” Vanessa said. She extracted a tiny recorder from her pocket and held it up like a quiz-show hostess. “You were more helpful than you know.”
Emil goggled at the recorder. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again like a landed trout. Clamped it shut as if he realized his every word was drowning him.
Nick stood to employ the impact of his greater size. “Some official associates of mine are very interested in this New Dawn representative. Talking to them might make things go easier on you.”
Emil stuck out his chin and fisted his bony hands at his sides. “I have nothing to say.”
Vanessa leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. “I wonder what would happen if a rumor floated to certain contacts that Alexei wasn’t alone in skimming profits from New Dawn. What a shame if you met the same fate as he.”
His eyes narrowed at her. “His death was an accident. I read it in the newspaper.”
“A knife between the ribs is hardly ever an accident. New Dawn has many tentacles and resources.” She examined her manicure before gazing up at him again. Friendly interest and concern vanished, replaced by professional-grade steel.
His face ashen, Emil started for the door.
In a flash, Vanessa lunged. She delivered a quick chop to his throat.
When he gagged and bent over, Nick yanked his arms behind him.
The man coughed and writhed, but sagged when stymied by Nick’s superior strength.
“Ah, there you are, Byrne,” Vanessa said. “I thought you’d never get here.”
Beyond the DARK control officer and two others, Celia Chin stood in the hallway. Her eyes were as round as the full hunter’s moon.
***
“The man’s a land mine just waiting to blow,” Simon Byrne said to Vanessa in the command post next door. He leaned back in the upholstered office chair and crossed his booted feet on the computer desk. His usual cocky humor had
vanished. “We can’t trust him.”
Resentment banded Vanessa’s chest, but she forced a deep breath before she responded. Byrne was lounging nearby just so he could bug her. Other agents, tech staff and Gabe Harris monitored the security system at other computers. She knew Nick better than the DARK officer. She trusted him. But Simon would think her gut feeling was based on personal emotions and not professional experience.
Emotion had no place in the mission.
She paused in running her search and swiveled away from her computer. “Nick Markos won’t do anything to jeopardize our plans. Sketchy as they are. He wants his brother’s murderers as much as we do.”
“Maybe.” His feet slammed to the floor. “He wants the danger finished, and he has a thing for you. It’s the damaged soldier that worries me. You making any headway on Somalia?”
“Some.” At least that was an area they agreed on. “I have the names of the men in his A team. People to contact.” Maybe the official cover-up hadn’t gagged all his former buddies.
Byrne uttered a noncommittal grunt as he stood. “That could take some time. You’d better hope Markos doesn’t find that ten mil before we get Husam Al-Din.”
She bit back a retort. They expected the terrorist leader to make another threatening phone call after the car bombing, and silence was straining everyone’s nerves. Doing her job was her best course of action. Playing her part and spying on Nick. She was getting damn tired of both. Acting the urbane sophisticate at embassy dinners and penthouse parties and not leveling with Nick had her nerves as scattered as fallen leaves in a breeze.
She printed out the list of names and addresses before logging out. Tomorrow she’d start with the man who’d survived the Karkaa ambush with Nick, Cruiser aka Louis Crusotti.
When she returned from the surveillance house, she found Nick in the library. His conference call with several of the N.D.M. International managers promised to last most of the afternoon, so she went to the basement gym to work out. Her Pilates routine both relaxed and revived her. Guzzling much-needed liquid from her water bottle, she mopped her forehead with a hand towel. She keyed on the treadmill.
Dark Cover (The DARK Files #2) Page 18
