by Cindy Dees
“We need the evidence, Em. We’ve got to move in fast and get it before AbaCo can pay anyone off to tamper with or destroy the evidence. By the time we call the police, present our evidence, they decide to move, then they get both the local and federal warrants they’ll need to search the ship, the Veronique will be long gone. AbaCo will send it back out into international waters where no one can touch it. If the guy in that container is lucky, all they’ll do is push his box overboard. If not, they’ll torture him to try to figure out who’s coming after him.”
“But a rescue now, especially after you escaped, will be terribly dangerous—”
He cut her off. “I’m fully aware of that. Which is why I’ll be careful.”
“Why we’ll be careful,” Laura amended firmly.
Panic squeezed Emily’s throat until she couldn’t force out the words to tell Jagger how much she feared losing him. How he couldn’t do this to her and Michelle. How he had to give up this foolishness—give up his career, if need be—rather than put himself at this kind of risk. She and their daughter needed him. Instead, all that came out of her mouth was a muted sound of protest.
Laura spoke gently, “Emily, it really is a golden opportunity to clear your names and catch AbaCo red-handed all in one fell swoop.”
Laura was right. Emily’s rational brain could accept the truth of that, but her gut was another matter entirely. Despairing, she looked over at Jagger. He came around the table to her, lifted her to her feet and wrapped her in the comforting safety of his embrace.
He murmured, “I promise it’ll be okay. I know what I’m doing, honey. It’ll turn out fine.”
She closed her eyes and buried her face against his chest. She wished she could be half so confident. No way could she let him walk out the door by himself, leaving her to wait and wonder. That would kill her for sure.
He went on, “But I have to do this. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do it.”
She loosed a shuddering sigh that was half a sob. He was right. And after all, she’d heard his delirious rantings. She knew better than anyone how much he needed to take action after two years of helplessness, to get retribution against AbaCo in some way. She was going to lose this fight. Heck, she’d already lost it.
She reached for courage she wasn’t even sure she had and raised her head. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and announced as bravely as Danger Girl could, “If you’re absolutely set on going through with this, then you two are going to need my help.”
Jagger smiled down at her in relief and gratitude. “Thank you, Emily. I know this is hard for you. And for the record, I’m counting on your help.”
She shook her head and crushed an urge to continue trying to talk him out of it. It was a waste of breath—she knew that stubborn set of the jaw all too well from Michelle. She muttered in resignation, “You know this is crazy, right?”
“Crazy’s my middle name, darlin’.” His cocky grin faded. “And besides, I owe AbaCo one. I’ll bring down those bastards if it’s the last thing I do.”
Emily flinched. She had a sinking feeling it might very well be the last thing he ever did if he tangled with AbaCo.
Chapter 14
Jagger invited Emily to join him and Laura after supper for a closed-door planning session. She told them everything she could think of about AbaCo security procedures and cargo-handling routines. But when they got down to the nitty-gritty of practicing how to work together in a gunfight, she visibly panicked. Her hands began to shake and her breath trembled, and she couldn’t seem to sit still in her seat.
He took pity. “The rest of this planning is just technical stuff, Em. Besides, isn’t it getting close to Michelle’s bedtime? I bet she’d love to have her mommy tuck her in.”
Emily snorted. “I dunno. Granny’s a pushover when it comes to Michelle wheedling more time to play out of her. I’m the bedtime Nazi.”
Jagger grinned. It was hard to imagine sweet Emily being a Nazi about anything.
Her calm facade evaporated as she rose to her feet and excused herself. Poor kid. She was running a lot closer to the edge of falling apart than she’d been letting on. He had to give her credit, though. She was stronger than she looked. She’d been a champ so far. Just one more day and this mess would be resolved, assuming everything went well.
And if things went bad, well, then not much would matter at all.
He and Laura compared notes and figured out quickly that their respective training had come pretty much out of the same playbook. Which was a huge relief.
Laura excused herself to go tuck in Adam, and he wandered upstairs, gravitating toward the squeals of laughter emanating from Michelle and Doris’s bathroom. The door was partially open and he peeked in.
His daughter was sitting up to her chin in a mountain of bubbles, and had them piled on her head and hanging from her chin in a fair toddler imitation of Santa Claus. Emily and Doris were laughing, and the scene was so endearing he felt something in his heart break at the sight.
All of it could be his. The laughter, the love, the sense of family. All he had to do was reach out and take it.
Tomorrow. He just had to get through tomorrow. And then he’d take everything they had to offer him and more. He’d reach for it all.
Michelle’s hands emerged from the mounds of bubbles and slapped down on the water, sending bubbles flying every which way, and drenching Emily and Doris. Michelle squealed with renewed laughter, delighted at the liberal glops of bubbles now adorning the two women.
He didn’t think he’d ever get enough of that sweet sound. His daughter’s laughter was a balm to his soul. As he stood there in the shadows of the doorway and watched the hilarity, the crack in his heart split wider and wider until the whole thing burst apart in an explosion of joy.
He was happy.
Happier than he could ever remember being. And it was all because of the laughter of a child. His child. Their child. The daughter he and Emily had created and whom she had shared with him in an act of generosity that stole his breath away.
Emily plucked the toddler from the water and wrapped her in a towel that swallowed Michelle whole. He retreated while Emily dried the child and dressed her in a fuzzy pair of pink footed jammies that were too cute to be legal. No doubt about it, his daughter would have daddy wrapped around her little finger in no time flat. The truth of the matter was he was already a goner.
He lurked in the next room while Emily rocked Michelle to sleep, closing his eyes and letting the quiet lullaby she sang wash over him like a blessing. And he’d thought he loved Emily before. Seeing her like this, loving his child with the full measure of a mother’s devotion, filled up spaces in this new heart of his that he’d never dreamed existed.
When Emily moved to get up a while later, he glided into the room quickly and lifted Michelle from her arms. Together, they carried their daughter to the crib Laura had thoughtfully provided and tucked their angel in snugly for the night.
Jagger looped his arm over Emily’s shoulder as they turned to leave.
He stopped just inside their bedroom. “She’s awesome, Em. You’ve done an amazing job with her.”
Emily blushed a little. “I’m sure I’ve made my share of mistakes, but I figure if you just love them with everything you’ve got, the rest will take care of itself.”
He’d give anything if she could love him that much. But they’d thought a lot of hurtful things about each other over the past two years. He didn’t know how long it would take for her to trust him completely again. Thankfully, AbaCo’s lies about her had been exposed, and he’d let go of his need to hurt her. He shuddered to think, though, of what might have happened if she had not been the one to rescue him. Would he have ever believed in her innocence otherwise? Would he have thrown away bubble baths and fuzzy jammies and soothing lullabies in the name of vengeance? He feared he would have. And the thought left him chilled to the bone.
“Hey, are you okay?” Emily asked in concern. “You l
ook pale.”
He grinned bravely. “I’m fine. It’s just the lighting. Super Spies don’t get pale.”
Emily grinned back. “Well, Danger Girl certainly does. She gets scared to death and isn’t afraid to admit it.”
He swept her into his arms and grinned down at her as her eyes went limpid. “Right now, Danger Girl looks a little flushed.”
She murmured up at him, “You do that to me.”
“I know. And I love it. Come.” He drew her toward the big bed that was invitingly turned down. “Let’s see how much of you is blushing for me.”
Emily laughed. “That would be all of me, you forward man.”
He expected to make love to Emily, but she surprised him by pushing him down gently to the mattress and indicating that he should roll onto his stomach. She checked his wounds, which were healing nicely, and then she gave him the mother of all back rubs. He was putty in her hands. But when she rolled him over onto his back and gave his front the same loving attention, tension built in him until he couldn’t stand it any longer.
He rolled over, taking her with him, and stared deep into her eyes as their bodies became one. The intimacy of the moment was almost more than he could stand. But generous Emily never flinched, never pulled back. She opened her body and heart to him and gave him every last bit of herself without reservation. It was almost as if she was offering him the very sense of family and belonging he’d craved earlier.
When the shudders of their lovemaking finally died away, she reached up, smiling lazily, to cup the back of his neck with her hand. She murmured, “I could do that for the rest of my life and never get tired of it.”
“Is that an invitation to stick around awhile?” he replied.
She stared up at him intently. “Yes. It is. You know I’d love to be with you for as long as you’ll have me.”
For as long as he’d have her? His mind spun out the possibilities of that. “I think, honey, that could be a very long time, indeed.”
She smiled, but the expression didn’t penetrate the darkness in her eyes. “Then how can you stand to risk all of this—you and me, being there for Michelle, our family?”
With her body still warm around his, the love in her eyes reaching out to embrace him, their daughter sleeping in the next room, he could see her point. Did he really dare chance losing all of this? For a possible prisoner, a stranger he’d never met and wasn’t even sure existed?
Doubt sliced into him, sharp and hot. She had a point. Maybe his days as a superspy were over. Maybe he was clinging to a part of himself that no longer existed. What if he’d lost the edge? The possible consequences of failure were too awful to contemplate. So why was he trying it?
Emily stared up at him, no doubt watching the arguments play out in his eyes. She murmured, “I knew I could make you change your mind. I just had to get you away from Laura and remind you about your family—”
Abruptly angry, he cut her off. “So this sweet seduction was just a case of bedroom politics? You were just trying to get me to change my mind?”
She frowned. “No, well, yes. Yes, I was hoping you’d change your mind. But no, it wasn’t just about that. I lo—”
He rolled away from her and out of the bed, striding across the room to pick up his discarded clothes. He yanked them on angrily. “I’m not that gullible. I know what I have to do and nothing you say or do is going to change that, dammit!”
To her credit, she didn’t try to argue with him.
He stormed out of the room and headed downstairs.
It took him all of about five minutes to calm down and realize he’d overreacted. She was only looking out for Michelle. She wanted her daughter to have a father. He couldn’t fault the impulse. And besides, he’d give almost anything to be able to settle down and raise Michelle with her. But unfortunately, he was still Super Spy, and he still had responsibilities.
First on that list was clearing their names so she could have the peaceful life she craved with her daughter. Second, and no less important, was evening the score with AbaCo so he could live in peace with the events of the past two years. Those were more important than any fairy-tale, happily-ever-after scenario she envisioned.
He pulled out the schematics of the Veronique that Laura had found online and printed earlier and he pored over them, walking through the plan a dozen times in his head, trying to anticipate absolutely every possible scenario for tomorrow night’s rescue. It—he—must not fail.
A long time later, he crawled into bed beside Emily and gathered her warmth against his side.
She murmured sleepily, “Did you finish planning World War Three?”
“As much as I can. Operations like this never go according to plan. A certain amount of improvisation is inevitable.”
He felt Emily’s wince against his shoulder. She mumbled, “That’s the part that worries me. All that unpredictable stuff that can go wrong.”
“Don’t worry too much about it. Sometimes things break the good guy’s way, too. It all evens out in the end.”
“Yeah, well, I found you and freed you, and that’s about as much as I’m willing to demand from fate.”
He smiled into the darkness. “Sleep, honey. One more day and it’ll all be over.”
He thought he heard her mumble under her breath, “And then what?”
He didn’t have an answer for her. Not yet. He had to focus entirely on the moment at hand and not to lose concentration by speculating about a future he couldn’t guarantee that they’d have. He could only pray that the Fates had one more lucky break lined up to fall his way.
He slept deeply. So deeply that when he lurched upright, sweating and sure he was back in that damned box, he didn’t know where he was right away. He threw off the covers, which felt far too much like ropes tying him down. His old scars ached and he rubbed them to convince the nerves there that they were not under attack.
The dark of the bedroom was as oppressive as the blackness of his crate and played tricks on his mind until he slipped out of bed and padded over to the door to Michelle’s room. He cracked it open to admit the glow of her night-light.
He couldn’t resist. He tiptoed into her room to peer down at the little girl. She slept on her stomach, sprawled in abandon, with one arm flung over a rather tattered plush bunny. Her blond curls tangled around her face, and her one visible cheek was chubby and rosy. Calmed by the sight of her, he padded back to bed and left the adjoining door open a bit.
No doubt about it. If another man was caged up in a box, missing these perfect moments with his family, Jagger had to take action. He had to try to save the guy.
Chapter 15
Emily crouched behind Jagger and Laura and wondered yet again how Jagger did this for a living. The sneaking around guards and over fences they’d had to do to even get to this dock had wiped her out physically and emotionally, and they hadn’t even started the real mission yet.
Jagger murmured, “Is that the Veronique?”
She whispered back, “That’s the right slip, and she’s about the right size. I can’t see her name from here, though.”
Laura pointed to a stack of truck-sized containers not far from the pier to which the Veronique was tied. “I’m heading over there. I’ll radio you to confirm that we’ve got the right ship. Then you can do your thing, Emily.”
Right. Her thing. Boldly walking aboard the ship with her expired AbaCo identification and hoping against hope she didn’t trigger any alarms that got her detained or worse. Jagger swore they’d rescue her if that happened, but Danger Girl was a quivering puddle of terror at the moment.
Laura darted across an open space and disappeared into the shadows beside the containers. Her radio call was all too quick in coming. “Yup, it’s our ship. You’re on, Emily.”
Jagger stood up in front of her and she did the same. She gazed up at him in wordless fear, and without her having to ask, he wrapped her in his warm, safe arms. “It’ll be all right, honey. Just stick to the plan. We’l
l be right behind you.”
Right. Stick to the plan. She could do this. Not. What if it was all a giant trap?
Jagger must have sensed the direction her thoughts were taking because he murmured, “We can handle whatever happens. I know you can do this. Do it for me.”
Darn it. Did he have to go and say the one thing that would prevent her from turning tail and running as fast as her feet would go? She nodded reluctantly against his chest. “Have you got the video camera?”
“Yup, everything’s ready. It’s time, honey.”
He released her and took a step back. One gloved finger traced down her cheek and along the line of her jaw. “Be careful. If it looks like you’re not going to make it, back out. Don’t be a hero—we’ll find another way to get aboard.”
Right. No heroes here.
She took a deep breath, turned away from him and took a step. And then another. Before she knew it, her feet had carried her into the peach glow of the halogen lights bathing the pier. She walked almost halfway down the starboard side of the massive container ship and onto the aluminum gangplank leading into the bowels of the vessel.
“Can I help you?” a sailor asked in gruff surprise.
“Yes, you can. I’m with the special cargo division at AbaCo, and there’s a problem with the paperwork on a shipment aboard the Veronique. The load plan you guys faxed to our office doesn’t match the one we have on file. I’m going to have to go through the deck load container by container and figure out which setup is accurate.” She rolled her eyes in disgust at the snafu.
“Oh, man, that sucks.” The guy commiserated.
She fluttered her eyelashes at him, not enough to be outright flirting, but enough to capture his attention, nonetheless. Keeping eye contact with him, she pulled out her AbaCo identification badge and clipped it to her belt at her waist. Then she shifted her clipboard to partially conceal it.
