Mission: Irresistible

by Sharon Sala

  “Damn you,” he muttered.

  “No. You’re damning yourself and I’ve done all I came here to do. The rest, Mr. Kirby, is up to you.” She headed for the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  She stopped and turned. “To bed. Oh…and I imagine I’ll be checking out sometime tomorrow so I’ll tell you goodbye tonight. I can’t say this trip turned out as I’d hoped, but I doubt I’ll ever forget you.”

  Before he could answer, she’d slammed the door, leaving him with nothing but the echo of her words. With a heartfelt curse, he slumped into a nearby chair, leaned back and closed his eyes. It was going to be a hell of a long night.

  It was six o’clock in the evening when Jeff Kirby unlocked the door to his apartment and then shouldered his way inside, dropping a backpack and an armful of dirty clothes on the floor by the door as he slammed it shut behind him. Although the rooms were a bit dusty and there were some dirty dishes in the sink, he’d never been so glad to be home. He’d just finished a thirty-six hour stint at the UCLA Medical Center and was so exhausted he couldn’t think. It had been all he could do to navigate the traffic from the hospital to his apartment. He headed for the bathroom, shedding his clothes as he went. All he wanted was a bath and a shower. He’d worry about the rest later.

  When he stepped beneath the showerhead, he braced himself against the shower stall and bent his head, closing his eyes in silent ecstasy and letting the warm jets of water knead the knotted muscles in his neck and shoulders. He stood beneath the spray until he felt himself beginning to fold, then turned off the water and got out to dry. He could see the corner of his bed from where he was standing and kept picturing himself stretching out beneath the sheets.

  With droplets still clinging to his back, he tossed his wet towel toward the rack as he walked past. It missed the hook and fell on the floor, but he kept on walking. When he reached the bed, he fell face forward upon the covers, his long bare legs and arms flung out. Within seconds, he was sound asleep.

  The phone began to ring, but Jeff never moved. The sun set, the moon rose, and sometime after midnight he began to stir. His belly was empty and growling and his neck was stiff from the position in which he’d been lying. With a groan, he rolled over on his back and glanced at the digital clock on the table beside his bed.

  It read 12:35 a.m. Already tomorrow. He had to be back at work in five hours. Alternating between the notion of going back to sleep and getting something to eat, his empty belly won out. He crawled out of bed and put on a pair of worn-out sweats on his way to the kitchen. Halfway down the hall he froze. Someone was rattling the knob on his front door.

  His mind began to race. Had he turned the dead bolt when he came in, or in his exhaustion had he only turned the lock on the knob? He entered the living room just as the door to his apartment swung inward. Three men wearing dark coveralls and caps burst into the room.

  He glanced toward the phone and when one of them yanked the jack from the wall, he realized they were already ahead of him. He doubled his fists.

  They came at him from all directions, leaving him with nowhere to go but through them if he was to get out the door.

  With a karate kick that his dad would have been proud of, Jeff connected with the first man, sending him flying backward with a kick to the chin. He hit the wall, taking down a table, a lamp and a picture as he fell. The noise was deafening. Jeff kept expecting that at any minute, Mil and Bill, his neighbors across the hall, would hear and come to see what was happening. While that man was scrambling to get up, the other two came at him on the run, hitting him squarely in the chest and taking him down beneath the weight of their bodies. More furniture crashed. Another lamp fell, shattering upon impact. Jeff landed one punch as the third man scrambled back up on his feet. After that, they had him subdued.

  Blood ran freely from a cut inside his mouth and he could already feel his right eye swelling shut.

  “If you sons of bitches planned on robbing me, you picked the wrong man. I don’t have anything of value except a television, a VCR and about twenty dollars to my name. Take the stuff and my car keys and just leave me the hell alone.”

  One of the men laughed. “A smart-mouth. Boys, we got ourselves a smart-mouth.”

  He yanked Jeff to his feet while the other two began wrapping duct tape around his hands and ankles. Jeff continued to struggle, but it was useless. He thought of his dad. What would he have done in such a situation? Clues. That’s it, clues. He would try to leave clues. But what? My God, they hadn’t exactly introduced themselves when they’d broken into his home.

  As his mind was racing, one of the men bent over and began wrapping his ankles. As he did, his shirt sleeve slipped back, revealing an odd tattoo on his biceps. It was of an American Flag with the initials B.O.B above it. It made no sense to him, but it was the only anomaly he could see.

  “The cops will be here any minute,” he warned. “My neighbors have probably already called them.”

  The man looked up at Jeff and then laughed.

  “Who? You mean those people across the hall? I don’t think so. About ten minutes ago they got a phone call to come to UCLA Med Center and identify a body. Damn shame about the woman’s mother—her dying so unexpectedly and all.”

  Jeff’s mind stopped. “You killed an innocent woman just to get rid of witnesses to killing me?”

  “Hell, no. We’re not killers, boy. We just gave them a little fright. They’re gonna find themselves the victims of a cruel joke. As for you, why, we’re not going to kill you, either. We’re just gonna take you for a little ride.” Then he pointed toward the other two men. “Straighten this place up. We wouldn’t want anyone to think he went against his will.”

  “You bastard,” Jeff snarled, and lowered his head, using it as a battering ram as he hit the man square in the belly.

  They went down in a tangle of anger. Blood spurted inside Jeff’s mouth upon impact, but it was nothing compared to the alarm in his heart. Unless a miracle occurred, he was about to be kidnapped, and he’d heard too many stories from his dad’s past to believe that he would ever be rescued alive.

  The man cursed and pushed, Jeff rolled, landing face down on the hardwood floor as the man put his boot in the middle of Jeff’s back.

  “Just stay put unless you want more of the same.”

  Jeff groaned, but did as he’d been told. He watched from the corner as they began putting the apartment back in order, dumping broken glass in the wastebaskets and then carrying them into the hall and putting them down the garbage chute while the other one set the furniture back in place.

  Suddenly, one of the men cursed and yanked off his glove.

  “Cut my damned finger,” he muttered, and wiped the blood on the seat of his pants, then dumped the last of the glass he was holding into a wastebasket.

  Meanwhile, Jeff’s thoughts were in turmoil. He had to leave some kind of clue, but what? His fingers were getting numb and he flexed them painfully. As he did, he felt moisture on the floor behind him and something clicked. Blood—his blood! He could use it like ink. But what to write? Again, his gaze fell upon the man with the odd tattoo and it clicked. Quickly, before they took him away, he traced the letters BOB on the floor with one finger. Within seconds, they were coming toward him.

  “Get the trunk,” the tattooed man said.

  Afraid that they would see what he’d done, Jeff pretended to make one final escape by rolling away from the wall where he’d been lying. They laughed and caught him in the middle of the room.

  “Where in blazes did you think you were goin’, boy?”

  Before Jeff could answer, he felt a prick on his arm then his ears began to buzz.

  “What did you do?” he muttered.

  “Come on, boy! Get up and get yourself in the trunk before you pass out on your face.”

  Jeff was fading fast. “Screw you,” he said, as his eyes rolled back in his head.

  “Damn it, Elmore, you could have waited until we g
ot him in the trunk. Now we’re gonna have to lift deadweight and me with a bad back.”

  “Just grab a leg and shut up,” Elmore said. “The sooner we get back to Idaho, the better I’m gonna feel.”

  Somewhere between panic and pure nothing, Jeff registered what had been said, and then everything went black.

  Morning came none too soon for Ally. She’d struggled all night with the urge to call Jonah and tell him she’d failed, but there was a part of her that still held out hope. The least she could do was give East until morning. If he hadn’t changed his mind by the time she checked out, then would be soon enough to make the call.

  Unwilling to see East again and face his bitterness and anger, she’d ordered breakfast sent up to her room, then wasted the biggest part of it, unable to eat for the pain. It was unusual for Ally to feel pain, because she had yet to suffer an injury in the field, and was rarely, if ever, ill. But the pain was there. Right around her heart. And every time she took a breath, it grabbed and tightened, squeezing until her eyes filled with tears. She kept seeing the look of disbelief on East’s face turn from hurt and then to anger. She’d liked him—really liked him—and knowing she was the one who’d put this distance between them hurt even more.

  With a dejected sigh, she dropped the last folded T-shirt into her bag and zipped it up, then put the cell phone Jonah had given her into her purse. It was her own fault. She’d known from the start that he wasn’t going to appreciate being deceived. She grabbed a tissue from her pocket and gave her nose a quick blow. She just hadn’t planned on being attracted to him. Intellectually, she knew that attraction between opposite sexes was nothing more than a secretion of pheromones. But intellect had nothing to do with her reaction to his deep, husky voice or the way his hands felt against her skin. And there was the way his eyes had turned dark when she thought he had been going to kiss her.

  She dropped onto the side of the bed and covered her face with her hands. Ah, damn. If only he’d kissed me. At least I would have had that to remember.

  The phone rang, startling her from her bout of pity. She grabbed it before it could ring a second time and then had to clear her throat of tears before she could speak.

  “Hello?”

  “Ms. Corbin, this is the front desk. We have a delivery for you. Shall we bring it to your room, or do you want to pick it up on your way out?”

  Her heart skipped a beat. Could this be another package from Jonah? If it was, checking it out in the privacy of her room was better than in the front seat of a car.

  “Bring it up, please. However, I’ll be checking out soon.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Just let us know. We’ll be happy to take care of your bags.”

  She set the phone back in the cradle and then went to the living room to await the delivery. A short while later, a knock sounded. She opened the door to find a bellhop holding a large manila envelope. She took it from him and then started to hand him some money when he waved it away.

  “Oh no, ma’am. That’s not necessary,” he said, and shut the door behind him as he left.

  “That’s a first,” she muttered, and put the money back in her pocket, then dropped the envelope on the table as if it were wired to explode before getting up the nerve to look inside. After a minute of deliberation, she dumped the contents upon the table. There were two items, a photo, which fell facedown, and a small white note card with a single phrase printed in heavy, black letters.

  I know who you are.

  Her heart skipped a beat. She picked up the photo and then inhaled sharply. Dear God. It was a picture of her and East standing out on the balcony last evening when they had watched the sunset.

  She studied it for some time, trying to figure out what it was that bothered her, then it hit. Whoever had taken it, had done so from the water. They were being spied on, but why? It must have something to do with Jonah. If it did, East would know. She turned toward the window overlooking the bay. But there was nothing in sight except whitecaps on the waves and a couple of sea lions sunning themselves on the rocks.

  I know who you are.

  She shuddered. The message was a warning. There was no mistaking that fact. And like it or not, she was going to have to confront East with this and then tell Jonah. She didn’t relish doing either, but this note had just changed everything.

  East had spent most of the night battling his conscience. On the one hand, everything Alicia Corbin had said to him was the truth. He did owe Jonah his sanity, maybe even his life. After the accident that had killed the kid, there had been many nights when he’d considered ending it all, telling himself that after what had happened, he didn’t deserve to live, either.

  But then he’d met Jeff, a fourteen-year-old runaway with no family, no roots, and no hope for a better life. Jeff had been street-smart and angry. Looking back, East knew that he’d subconsciously set out to save this kid because he hadn’t been able to save the other one. But that was only at first. Within six months, his feelings for Jeff had truly changed. He cared about the boy who was trying to become a man on his own, and to his joy, Jeff was beginning to care for him. Somehow, Jonah found out and gave East the opportunity he needed to settle down by changing his status to inactive and putting him in charge of the Condor Mountain Resort. For the first time in his adult life, Easton Kirby had a permanent address and someone who depended on him, while Jeff gained a father and a home.

  But that was ten years ago and East knew that if he died tomorrow, Jeff would survive. He was a big, savvy young man with a bright future ahead of him, and a good part of that was thanks to Jonah’s intervention.

  Now Jonah was calling in the marker and East had refused. The pressure was on and he didn’t know where to turn. He’d been off active duty for so long, he felt as if technology and time had passed him by. There was so much about the business he didn’t know anymore. It was frightening to think about holding Jonah’s future in his hands. What if he failed? What if he made another mistake? This time, it would be Jonah who took the fall and the idea was impossible. The entire safety of the free world quite often fell on the shoulders of SPEAR operatives. Destroying Jonah could prove fatal to more than just the man, himself. It could affect the lives of every citizen of the United States of America, and thinking about the burden of responsibility made him sick. But the question kept coming back to the same answer. As Ally had reminded him quite forcefully, Jonah had asked. How could he possibly refuse?

  It had taken all night and into the morning before East had gotten up the nerve to call Ally’s room. But before he could act upon the thought, he’d gotten a call of his own—one that had taken him out of his own problems in a heartbeat. A child had gone missing.

  East exited the elevator to find Foster Martin, the assistant manager, waiting for him. East acknowledged the man with an abrupt nod.

  “What do we know?” East asked. “Have you searched the hotel? How old is he? Did you get a description of him, the clothes he was wearing?”

  “I have staff searching every floor as we speak and the groundskeepers have just been alerted to search the surrounding area. The boy is almost three and wearing a pair of red swimming trunks. Nothing else.”

  “How do you lose a kid?” East muttered.

  “Easy,” Foster said. “All you have to do is blink.”

  East gave the man a considering look. “You sound as if you’re speaking from experience.”

  “I lost my nephew while shopping last Christmas. I turned loose of his hand only long enough to get my wallet out of my pocket and when I reached down to get him, he was gone.”

  East sighed. At least he hadn’t had that kind of problem with Jeff. He’d been past the hand-holding stage by the time that they’d met.

  “I trust everything turned out okay?”

  Foster nodded. “Thankfully, yes.”

  “Where had he gone?”

  “Back to tell Santa to bring me a wife.”

  East grinned, then clapped Foster on the back. “It’s t
oo early for Santa, so let’s go talk to the parents.”

  “They’re outside right now with the bellhops who are searching the parking lot.”

  “Good. You stay inside and coordinate what you’ve already started. I’ll go outside to see what I can do. Say a prayer.”

  “Yes, sir. Already done that, sir.”

  East started through the lobby, his focus on the situation at hand, and missed seeing Ally as she came off the elevator. But Ally saw him leaving and quickly followed, unaware of the unfolding drama. It wasn’t until she’d exited the hotel that she realized something was amiss.

  A young woman in hiking clothes came barreling around the corner of the building.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” Ally asked.

  “Some little boy got himself lost. Everyone’s helping search.”

  “What’s he look like?” Ally asked.

  The girl shrugged. “I don’t know. All I heard them say is that he’s little.”

  Ally sighed as the girl quickly left. First things first, and that meant finding the kid. But how? What would draw a child’s attention in this place? There was no playground equipment, no swings, no playland via a fast-food restaurant. If he wasn’t inside, then where would he be? She imagined the child being snatched, then blocked the thought out of her mind. Don’t borrow trouble, she warned herself, and then took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

  For a moment, all she could hear was the sound of voices calling back and forth as they searched, but she made herself block all that out and listen, instead, to the world around her.

  The first thing she heard were the seagulls—the soft flapping of their wings as they rose and fell within the swells of the wind, and then their high-pitched calls. Goose bumps rose on the backs of her arms as she instinctively turned toward the sounds. She’d never really listened to the gulls before, but there was an eerie, almost otherworldly sound to their screech.

  Then there was the rhythm of the waves, washing up, pulling back. A low, almost imperceptible sound came with it—a shrill, high-pitched shriek.