“The south side of town,” she added.
Bingo. So this was it. Her side trip would take them to the edge of the city, close to the freeway interchange. The safe house was to their northwest, but it would be smarter to head south, and then change directions once they were sure they weren’t being followed.
Showing no reaction, Kyle nodded and put the car in gear. His muscles tightened, tension slowly coiling in him as he tried to anticipate how she’d neutralize Rudy. The big man wouldn’t be easy to handle.
He waited, alert, as she started rustling through the shopping bag.
“Paulo gave me some samples from his exclusive new perfume line,” she told them chattily. “I can’t decide which one I like best, so I need a masculine opinion.”
The high seat backs and headrests prevented the men from having a clear view of her, but they heard the hiss of an atomizer. Then her hand reached between the headrests. She put a tissue near Rudy’s face and let him inhale the perfume.
“This one’s called Ambrosia,” she said, shifting the tissue toward Kyle so he could get a whiff before she withdrew it.
He heard her spraying another sample, then another tissue was held toward Rudy’s nose. “Now this one is called Sweet Nectar. It has more of a fruity scent, don’t you agree? I’m not sure I want to smell like fruit. What do you think?”
Rudy mumbled a vague reply.
Damn. She was good. Kyle hid a grin as he obediently sniffed at the second sample she held near his face. Haroldson’s henchman wouldn’t know what hit him when she finally made her move.
They heard the spray of another atomizer, and she was reaching around the seat again. Then she slapped an ether-soaked cloth over Rudy’s face, holding it tightly with both hands. He grabbed at her wrists, but she’d locked his head in a vice between her hands and the headrest. The bodyguard struggled briefly before realizing he couldn’t break her hold, then he reached for the beeper at his belt.
Kyle grabbed his wrist and held tight until the big man sagged into unconsciousness. Then he hit the window button to let some fresh air into the car so the ether wouldn’t affect them.
“So which do you like best?” She continued the charade in case the car was bugged. Then she slithered over the seat and slid between him and Rudy. The action had her body bumping against his, her thigh brushing his shoulder and chest. Kyle steeled himself against the feel of her wiggling form.
He offered a noncommittal grunt in response to her question.
“You guys aren’t much help with the perfume preferences,” she said on a heavy sigh as she shoved Rudy’s limp body closer to the door, maintaining a conversational tone. “I guess I’ll leave the choice to Gregory. How about some music?”
Kyle switched on the radio and cranked the volume to cover their conversation.
“What next?” he muttered.
“Anyone tailing us?” Her husky tone had been replaced with a crisp, no-nonsense whisper.
“Damon in a dark green SUV. I can’t see who’s with him.”
“Lose ’em. I want to dump Rudy out of here before the ether wears off.”
Considering the bodyguard’s size, it wouldn’t take more than a few minutes for him to recover. Kyle altered their route and headed for a less congested area of town. Once they’d cleared the heaviest traffic, he had a better view of the car following them. He made a couple of unexpected turns, and Damon started closing the distance between them.
“He’s suspicious,” she grumbled, dividing her attention between Rudy and the car behind them.
The traffic began to thin out as they reached an industrial park. The area was nearly deserted on Saturday, so Kyle made a sharp turn between two huge warehouses. They were nearing the end of the connecting alley when the SUV came into view again.
For the next few minutes, they wove in and out of alleys, slowly increasing their lead. Then Rudy started to stir.
“Stop in the middle of the next one,” said Samantha.
He did as she said, slowing the car enough for her to open the door and nudge Rudy onto the pavement. The big man fell with a thud and a grunt. She slammed the door, and Kyle floored the accelerator, peeling rubber, as she settled into the bucket seat.
The plan went like clockwork. They were just pulling out of the alley as Damon was forced to stop for a groggy and stumbling Rudy. The few minutes it took their pursuers to get the extra man into the SUV gave them the time needed to disappear.
Kyle shot out of the complex and turned onto the nearest residential street, and then another, tires squealing. Meeting minimal traffic, he sped up for another few streets, then made a third turn onto a deserted, tree-lined street.
Pulling into the drive of a small ranch-style house, he quickly punched the code of a remote garage door opener. It slid upward, he drove inside, and the door closed to conceal them from the street.
As soon as he’d switched off the ignition, he motioned toward the dusty, nondescript black pickup truck parked next to them in the two-car garage. Samantha grabbed her bags, and they jumped from the car.
“Good plan, Jackson. I was afraid we’d have to elude Gregory’s men in his Mercedes.”
“No. Too easy for him to track.” He’d rented this place to store a getaway vehicle and a few of his personal things. Haroldson would probably track down his car if he had it bugged, but not until they were long gone.
They climbed into the truck. He stripped off his dark shirt, leaving him in a white T-shirt. Then he reached for a baseball cap on the dash, tugged it over his head and hit the ignition.
“Shouldn’t we wait a while?”
“Too risky. They’ve already called for backup, but they won’t be looking for a truck with one occupant.” He gave her a meaningful glance.
“Got it,” she said, sliding to the floor and crouching out of sight just as Kyle activated the overhead door. He backed the dusty truck from the garage.
Heart racing and adrenaline pumping, he found it hard to control the urge to speed, but he wove back through several residential streets at a sedate pace. As he approached the intersection that led back to the main highway, he spotted the SUV, but it didn’t follow as he made the turn.
Within another two miles, they’d reached the freeway ramp leading south. As he paused at the yield sign, he spared a glance for his passenger, and then did a double take. She’d lost the long blond hair, apparently a wig, and now had short, spiky red hair. She’d also shed her blouse for a white knit top and ditched the jewels along with the pampered princess look.
The new look suited her new role.
Their gazes met, and something dangerously sexy arced between them. His muscles clenched as the unwelcome heat curled through his bloodstream. Undercover girl became more fascinating with each layer she revealed.
Her instant frown and the tightening of her jaw convinced him that she didn’t appreciate the unexpected attraction.
“Got another ball cap?” she asked, breaking the strained silence. “I’m getting a little cramped down here.”
He glanced in the rearview mirror again, then handed her a hat. After donning it, she slowly eased into the passenger seat and fastened her seat belt. Her tone was terse when she spoke.
“Where are we headed?”
“South for a while,” he explained, easing into traffic. “Then we’ll be turning north toward the safe house in Virginia.”
Samantha nodded.
He thought she relaxed a little, but she kept a close watch on the traffic around and behind them for an unexpected tail. After a few minutes of silence, he offered a compliment.
“You handled Rudy like a pro.”
Her tone chilled. “I am a pro.”
Kyle hid a grin. Touchy. He didn’t doubt that the mysterious Phantom was one of the best, but she also had to be insane or inconceivably ambitious to live with a slimeball like Haroldson. What could possibly motivate a beautiful young woman to that extent?
Despite doubts about her mental stability, he was finding her
more intriguing by the minute. Which meant, the sooner they parted ways, the better. He didn’t want or need involvement with a sexy, lunatic secret agent. He couldn’t deny his yearning for uncomplicated feminine companionship, but there was nothing uncomplicated about his current companion.
He’d be glad to have his end of the job finished. A heady sense of freedom rushed through him. In a couple of hours, he could head home to Texas and know he’d done his part in bringing Haroldson to justice. The thought brought a sweet surge of satisfaction.
Samantha withdrew a cell phone from her bag. She punched in a series of numbers. He heard ringing and a pickup. She punched another series of numbers, and then snapped the phone closed.
“Notifying someone?”
“Sullivan. He’ll know we’re on our way when he gets a coded message from this number.”
It pleased him that she had mentioned Sullivan’s name and that the two of them had the operation so ingeniously coordinated. That meant less chance of confusion or errors. Fewer risks meant higher achievement rates.
“So you’re the infamous Kyle Tremont?”
He gave her a sharp glance. How had she learned his name? “You’ve been in regular contact with Sullivan? Wasn’t that risky considering how close Haroldson has you guarded?”
“I haven’t talked to him, but I knew he planned to contact you. He promised me someone who couldn’t be compromised. I’ve seen your photo in old agency files and read about a few of your accomplishments. I don’t remember your hair being so dark. Dyed?”
Kyle nodded, a wave of nostalgia tightening his gut. She was one of them, one of the FBI’s elite force of undercover agents. He’d known a few female officers, and they had his utmost respect. Margie had worked twice as hard as a male agent and rarely got the recognition she deserved. The law-enforcement world was still a male-dominated profession.
“You shed your blond locks pretty quick. Are you a natural redhead?”
“No.”
She didn’t elaborate, which stirred his imagination. When he realized how curious he was to know more about her, he abruptly halted the direction of his thoughts.
She continued. “You earned quite a reputation with the agency.”
“Not all good,” he qualified. “I hated the political games.”
“Is that why you quit the agency at the ripe old age of thirty? You just got fed up with the politics?”
“Partly,” he said.
“So what made you decide to come out of retirement for this job? Did Sullivan call in markers or do you have a personal vendetta against Gregory?”
Kyle ground his teeth to keep from growling that it was none of her business. Her questions ticked him off, but he supposed she had a right to ask.
“I don’t owe Sullivan any favors.”
His passenger wisely didn’t pursue the subject. She could believe whatever she wanted, because he didn’t plan to offer any details. She didn’t need to know about Margie or the guilt that had haunted him for four years.
Margie would have admired Samantha, he thought, his chest going tight. She’d always wanted to do undercover work. When she’d finally gotten her big chance, she’d walked into a trap that had cost her life. The memory made him angry and restless, so he changed the subject.
“Do you have a name besides Phantom or Samantha?” he asked, studying her profile while she stared out the windshield. “Is that your real name or is it a top-level security secret?”
She hesitated, glancing his way and then turning her attention forward. It was the first time she’d acted tentative about anything. Kyle found himself wanting her to trust him, yet annoyed that it mattered.
He’d almost given up on an answer when she finally responded. “You can call me Rianna, if you’d like.”
Rianna. He liked it. It sounded soft and feminine. A little inconsistent with what he knew about her, yet appealing.
“That’s a pretty name, but unusual.”
She hesitated another instant, then added, “My given name is Marianna, but I’ve always shortened it in one form or another.”
Not a giant leap of faith, but a baby step. He didn’t expect much more. He knew how hard it was for an undercover agent to trust anyone after months of being constantly on guard, when a slip of the tongue could blow your cover and end your life. He didn’t know how long Rianna had been hiding behind a phony name and background, but he knew it would take her a while to unwind.
Neither of them was inclined to make small talk, so conversation came to a halt. As the miles passed by, they watched the passing scenery, kept an eye on the traffic behind them and gradually relaxed.
Kyle grew increasingly aware of her scent, the warmth radiating from her body and even the soft, steady sound of her breathing. His senses absorbed everything about her in an intense, disturbing fashion, even while he argued the idiocy of the reaction. He comforted himself with the thought that their forced alliance wouldn’t last much longer.
It took them a little over two hours to reach the state border and cross from North Carolina into Virginia. Their destination, a single-story house on the outskirts of Emporia, was easily found. Surrounded by several large bushes and evergreen trees, it sat apart from any neighboring houses.
Kyle turned into the drive, pulled to a stop near the front porch and shut off the engine.
Tension hiked upward a few degrees as they faced a new and unknown territory. He and Rianna both studied their surroundings for a long time before considering it safe to get out of the truck. He reached for her bags, but she halted him.
“Leave them for now.”
His gaze held hers for the first time since they’d left Elizabeth City. More tension flashed between them, complicated by a touch of suspicion. Her wary expression didn’t surprise him. She wasn’t prepared to trust anyone or anything right now. He nodded, understanding the reaction, and climbed from the truck.
Rianna let him lead the way to the front porch. He found the key where he’d been told to look and preceded her inside the house, then stopped.
“Stay put a minute,” he said, reaching for the gun he’d tucked in the waistband of his jeans.
She ignored the command and accompanied him as he searched the house, checking each room thoroughly and making sure they were alone.
“Everything looks okay,” he said a few minutes later as he slowly replaced his gun. “Sullivan should have gotten your message by now. He’ll have a couple of agents here to guard the place in an hour or so. They’ll be coming from D.C., so it shouldn’t take them long.”
“You’re not staying?”
Their gazes met, hers slightly accusing. He ignored a brief pang of guilt.
“My part of the plan was to get you out of Haroldson’s estate and to this safe house. That’s all I agreed to do.”
“So you’re ready to disappear?”
The antagonism in her tone had him clenching his jaw. “A week of playing lackey to Haroldson is more than any man should have to take,” he argued grimly. “As soon as your bodyguards show up, I’m outta here.”
Rianna snorted indelicately. “Meantime, I’m starved,” she said. “I think I’ll see what kind of food we have stocked.”
His annoyance vanished at the thought of food. It had been a long time since breakfast, and a meal now would help him avoid making extra stops on his way home. He decided not to argue.
“Sounds good.”
Kyle followed her to the kitchen and watched while she rummaged through the refrigerator. He admired the way her jeans molded the feminine curves of her hips, thighs and long legs. A man would have to be emasculate not to notice how well she was put together, but that’s as far as his interest went.
He quickly redirected his attention. Moving to the window, he surveyed the backyard for as far as he could see. The house was secluded; there was no sign of neighbors and everything was quiet.
“Are you eating?” asked Rianna.
“Sure.”
He turned back
and helped her get the food on the table. They put together some sandwiches, opened a bag of potato chips and ate in silence. Kyle studied her as he chewed, familiarizing himself with her new punk look. It suited her oval face and delicate features as well as the seductive blonde image. He wasn’t sure which he preferred.
It seemed Phantom was a chameleon, as well.
“Do you mind if I ask what you do now that you’re not with the agency any longer? Do you still live and work in D.C.?”
He’d never been comfortable discussing his personal life, but he didn’t see the harm in small talk. “I moved out west a few years ago.”
“You still work in law enforcement?”
“No, I’m just a private citizen who minds his own business.”
Her brow creased in a frown, and he realized how censorious his comment sounded. She abruptly stopped asking questions and grew quiet, which should have pleased him, but perversely didn’t. They finished their meal in silence, and then worked together to clean the kitchen.
After they had taken turns in the bathroom, he switched on the TV in the living room while Rianna paced around the house, checking the contents of cupboards and closets.
She had just stopped her restless prowling and joined him, when a knock at the front door startled them.
“Stay out of sight,” he told her, heading toward the front of the house while she headed toward the back.
A glance through the peephole showed two familiar faces, Dan Hoskins and Ted Blaine, both experienced agents he recognized from his days at the bureau. Tucking his gun back in his jeans, he opened the door. They shook hands and exchanged greetings, then he lead the way back to the kitchen.
They found it empty. Kyle glanced at the door, then toward the window, annoyed and confused until noises from the bathroom helped him pinpoint Rianna’s location. He heard the toilet flush, some clinking of the toilet tank, and then she called to him for assistance.
“Kyle, could you help me again? This toilet still isn’t flushing right.”
He had no idea what she was talking about, but he decided to find out. “You guys help yourselves to some lunch. I’ll be right back,” he said, walking down the short hallway to the bathroom.
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