Hiding Jessica

by Alicia Scott

  She was a survivor, she reminded herself now as she looked at her smooth, white hands. More so than anyone would ever know. She’d started over before, she’d start over again. Probably someday, Les would find her, simply because he wouldn’t rest until he did. But she wouldn’t go down without a fight. If anything else, she’d learned that lesson in the past year and a half. This time, she would not be intimidated. Why should she? she thought grimly. She’d beat the mobster on his very own game, and made him pay a far bigger price than he’d ever imagined.

  She didn’t need these men in their look-alike suits. And she certainly didn’t need any hotshot in New Hampshire. She didn’t really trust any of them anyway. She knew what greed could do to men, knew how easy it was to corrupt. She even knew the effect her looks had on men. She would be better off on her own.

  Soon. She didn’t have to trust the man in New Hampshire—just knowing she would finally be allowed a room to herself was enough. A little time on her own was all she needed. One night with no one watching.

  Soon. Very soon.

  Once more her eyes turned to the window, once more they settled on the white winter hills, rolling so smoothly by. And once more, not a single expression on her beautifully sculpted face gave her away.

  * * *

  Mitch had been waiting nearly half an hour by the time the sedans finally pulled up. He looked at them with something akin to disgust. He believed very strongly in the Witness Protection Program, and he believed very strongly in the men and women who worked so hard to keep the witnesses safe. But for crying out loud, who drove three dark sedans to a remote wilderness retreat in New Hampshire? They might as well stamp FBI in a huge target on the trunk.

  This, of course, was why they used him so much. While he’d once been an agent, he’d never been good at conforming. Now, as an independent specialist to the Witness Protection Program, he was free from all the “procedures” he often considered more of a liability than a help to participants.

  Soon the sedans would be gone, and he would pull out the four-wheel-drive Blazer that was much more appropriate for the situation. Of course he’d still have to convince the remaining two agents to give up their suits. What could be more conspicuous than tailored suits in the middle of nowhere?

  He shook his head as the sedan doors finally opened. The team leader stepped out first, walking over to Mitch. Each nodded at each other in greeting, reciting their appropriate sentences for identity clearance. Mitch signaled that the location was secured and the agent then returned to the first sedan. At his indication, the other agents piled out of the cars. When everyone was in place, they opened the door for the woman.

  She stepped out of the sedan gracefully, though she declined the agent’s offered hand. With the white silk scarf wrapped around her head, it was impossible to see her features. But he had only to watch her walk to know that she was a model.

  Today she was wearing a white traveling suit. As she stepped forward, the thin fabric moved with her, revealing the long, lean lines of a model’s legs before falling back into place. In the thin fabric, she should be freezing. But she didn’t even tremble as she moved forward.

  Behind her sunglasses, he could feel her eyes raking him up and down. With an almost imperceptible move of her head, she glanced away, dismissing him as sharply as with a slap. He couldn’t quite stop himself from raising a sharp eyebrow. So she was still the Ice Angel, was she? They would see about that.

  Walking around in a small circle, as if to take in her surroundings, Jessica worked on controlling her breathing. That man, that man. Surely he wasn’t the hotshot everyone had been talking about? Surely they weren’t going to leave her alone for two weeks with him?

  He dressed wrong, she thought abruptly. He was supposed to be wearing a generic blue suit—didn’t he know that? Not some lumberjack green plaid under a sheepskin coat, and faded jeans that clung to his form. And he was too big besides. At least six-four, but even worse, he looked strong, powerful. The dark hair didn’t help, either, and he wore it too long, the back brushing the top of his shoulders.

  He looked too much like a man. A very strong man. She didn’t like it. She wanted the generic suits back.

  Abruptly she froze the thought, focusing on a tree just three feet away. There, the faint form of a gray squirrel nibbled on some small nut it had the rare privilege of finding this time of year. Jessica focused on the squirrel, spiraling her concentration inward until she found the control she was known for. Only then did she turn around.

  Moving back to the circle of blue suits, she took off her sunglasses and unwrapped the scarf from her head, letting it settle on her shoulders instead. Vaguely, she was aware of the men’s sharp glances. They should look, she thought intently. The white of the suit accentuated the pale gold highlights of her hair, which was pulled back into an elegant French twist. And her mascara, sparingly applied this morning, was still enough to frame the brilliant blue depths of her eyes. The suit, of course, with its exquisitely tailored lines, followed the flow of her long lean body to perfection. She knew the picture she presented, all right, and she used it. The more men were enraptured with the package, the less they asked about the contents.

  She strolled leisurely forward, putting on her best presence.

  “It certainly is beautiful here,” she remarked, a rare comment that startled at least two of the men. Unfortunately, it was that man who chose to reply.

  “Yes,” Mitch answered in a deep, husky voice that sounded faintly amused, “and you can be sure it’s safe, as well.” He’d been watching her sudden unveiling before the gathered group, and it had struck him at once what she was doing. Something was on the Ice Angel’s mind. In a minute, he figured they would all find out just what.

  She turned to him, and even he had to admit she was beautiful. But there was a coldness to her looks, a tight control that kept them from impacting him. He much preferred the small, laughing faces of easygoing brunettes.

  “And you are...?” she asked in a slightly imperious voice.

  “Mitchell Guiness,” he replied easily. He held out his hand, but she refused it.

  “And you are the one that will be in charge of this area?”

  He nodded.

  She peered at him intently, and he could almost see the wheels turning in her mind. Abruptly it hit him. She didn’t like him. For whatever reason, she did not like him. Slightly surprised, he found that it bothered him.

  “How long have you been doing this, Mr. Guiness?” she asked now.

  “Five years,” he responded levelly. He gave her a wry smile. “Would you like to see a copy of my résumé?”

  She ignored the last retort, focusing instead on the first. “And before those five years?”

  “I was an agent.”

  “What made you quit being an agent?”

  His face tightened slightly, the question hitting sensitive ground. Not that she could know that, he reminded himself.

  “I wanted to expand my horizons,” he said coolly.

  She turned away. “This won’t work,” she said abruptly to Bill, who was the team leader. “Given the last two attempts on my life, I don’t feel sequestering me in one place for two weeks with only this man and two other agents will be adequate protection. I would like a new plan, please.”

  Bill opened his mouth to reply, but Mitch cut him off before he had a chance.

  “This isn’t a vacation package,” Mitch informed her tightly. “You can’t simply pick and choose different options. While I appreciate your concerns, they’re unfounded. I happen to be an expert in this area, sweetheart. If anyone can keep you alive, it’s me. Trust me.”

  For one small instant, her features froze. Then she looked back at Bill, who was standing stiffly at attention.

  “I want a second opinion,” she said pointedly.

  “Mitchell Guiness is the best,” Bill said clearly. “You will be safe here.”

  She almost laughed at that, but after all these years her con
trol was much too good. “Trust us. You will be safe. Trust us.”

  “Don’t you trust me, sweetheart? Come on, trust—”

  The words came out of nowhere, fragments of a memory that abruptly penetrated her mind. She couldn’t help herself; she had to close her eyes. Then the memory was gone, safely tucked back away in the deep dark place she never allowed herself to go. Her eyes opened, and once more she was standing in the middle of a white forest with men in blue suits and one man who even now was watching her.

  “I’ll get my bags, then,” she said quietly. They weren’t going to change their minds, and she had no good grounds for argument that she cared to share. Her earlier thought returned to her. It didn’t matter if she trusted the man, just as long as she finally got one night alone.

  Moving as sure and controlled as before, she went to the trunk and withdrew her two bags. Two blue suits moved to help her, but she turned them away with the tight look on her face.

  “If you could show me my room, then,” she said, keeping her eyes away from the one man, “I would like to freshen up now.”

  Mitch nodded. There was a slight delay while he conferred with the other agents. Then, four of the blue suits returned to two sedans and drove off. That just left her, Mitch, the team leader Bill, and one more man who’d probably been introduced to her but whose name she didn’t remember. Mitch said a few more things to the men, gesturing at the sedan, then their suits. Abruptly he walked back over to her.

  “I’ll show you around now,” he said evenly.

  She put her sunglasses back on before she nodded, wanting the dark cover more than she cared to admit. He stood too close, she thought angrily. The other men were careful to give her plenty of room, at least a respectful distance. But not this man. He stood so close, she could smell the spicy scent of after-shave. And she could see the faint stubble on his cheeks of a late-afternoon beard. Worse, she could feel the heat radiating from his large frame, feel the tightly restrained power.

  She drew herself up carefully, keeping her own control tightly in place. His dark eyes moved over her speculatively, but she gave nothing away. After a moment, he reached over and took the bags from her. She relinquished them wordlessly, careful to keep her hands from contacting his. He turned and walked to a two-story log cabin; she followed.

  Walking through the door, she was struck at once by the blaze of heat. For the first time she shivered, only now realizing how cold it had been outside. The man in front of her, of course, noticed the shudder.

  “I hope you brought warmer clothes than what you’re wearing,” he remarked in that low voice of his. “Because this isn’t exactly a resort here. In the next two weeks, you’ll be outside a great deal, I promise you.”

  She removed her sunglasses once more, looking at him with her dispassionate blue eyes. “I’m sure I’ll survive just fine,” she informed him coolly.

  He arched a black eyebrow. “Wearing silk in snow?”

  “Mr. Guiness, I’ve worn bathing suits in snow, not that it’s any of your concern. My room, please?”

  He ignored her reminder. “Tough life being a fashion model, huh?” he asked, openly amused.

  Rather than becoming defensive as he may have hoped, she simply shrugged a dismissive shoulder. “A job is a job,” she said expressionlessly. “I’m sure there are parts of yours that aren’t exactly ‘heavenly,’ either.”

  In his mind, he could practically fill in the blanks. Like baby-sitting a fashion model. He ignored the thought completely. Oh, but she was a cool one. Even in person she could keep that tight air of hot-cold sensuality. Her body practically begged for a man’s touch. Her face said she would freeze the first man who tried. He himself wasn’t sure which one to believe, but for now he was going with the message in her eyes.

  Still, he wished more things about the woman would check out. It was the fundamental question he’d faced watching her at the trial. What kind of woman turned in her lover without any kind of emotion? What kind of woman could creep around a mobster’s house at night without the slightest fear?

  What did go on behind those cool blue eyes of hers?

  All he knew was that she looked as beautiful in person as she did in the magazines, and she was perfectly aware of that fact. He also knew she didn’t like him.

  For now, that both amused and irritated him.

  She was still looking at him with dispassionate eyes. With a mental start, he turned to their surroundings.

  He gestured around the room. “As you can see, we walked right into the living room. The fireplace there gives off plenty of heat so the nights aren’t quite so cold. Over to the right is the kitchen and dining room. The kitchen isn’t that big but everything works and there are only four of us. It’s also fully stocked, so food shouldn’t be a problem. We can all take turns cooking. Tonight I’ll draw up the schedule. Can you cook, Jessica?”

  It was the first time he’d spoken her name, and it seemed to almost whisper in the air. Unexpectedly, she felt a small shiver creep up her back at the low utterance. With quick control she squashed the reaction.

  “Passably,” she said out loud, the words still expressionless. Mitch nodded, pointing out the staircase next. But before they started up it, he set down the bags as he shrugged off his thick coat to hang on one of the wooden pegs by the door. While she waited, Jessica’s own eyes took in the area.

  The lower level certainly seemed small and quaint. Everything was in earth tones, with a large brown leather couch in front of the huge fireplace. She could see a thick blanket thrown over the back of the easy chair, lending a homey touch. The red-and-brown Indian-print rug thrown over the wooden floors looked thick and sturdy. To her right, the dining room was an open expanse raised two steps from the living room. In the middle sat a huge pine table with benches on either side serving as the seats. Off the dining room, the kitchen was indeed tiny looking. All in all, the surroundings looked very cozy and comfortable. If she’d been vacationing by herself, she probably would have liked the cabin very much. But sharing it with three other people, one of them being the man in front of her... She wasn’t sure she liked it at all.

  She wanted more space. Lots more space.

  The man in front of her seemed oblivious, picking her bags back up and now approaching the stairs at their immediate right. Wordlessly, she followed.

  Even without his coat, he still seemed large. The wide expanse of his shoulders brushed against the sides of the narrow staircase, until he seemed to fill the entire void. The green plaid shirt he wore looked worn and comfortable on his shoulders, while his faded jeans clearly outlined his legs and hips.

  She was careful to keep several steps between them as they went up the stairs. But even then, she could feel his presence in the nervous clenching and unclenching of her stomach. It was the strain of the last five months, she figured. She really did need some time to herself.

  The stairs peaked at the wide open expanse of a loft. The front of the loft was finished by a wooden railing, which allowed a person to look down into the living room. Behind the loft were three doorways, each apparently leading to a bedroom. Between two of the bedrooms was a small bathroom. Mitch went straight to the last doorway and motioned her inside.

  Maintaining as much distance as possible, she pushed by him into the room. It was a large room, simply furnished. In the center was a queen-size bed, framed by a simple wooden headboard and footboard. A matching nightstand was on one side, while a five-drawer dresser graced the wall. A thick, off-white shag rug had been thrown over most of the floor, and the winter sun streamed in through a triangular window set high in the vaulted ceiling. After months in tiny hotel rooms with tightly drawn curtains, it was a refreshing change of pace. Wordlessly, she walked over to the closet, throwing open the doors.

  Mitch watched her every move from the doorway, saw her survey the room, saw her cross the floor with her graceful model’s steps. But not a single expression filtered across her face the entire time. Not disgust, joy,
contentment, disappointment. Nothing. Her pale skin remained smooth, her blue eyes dispassionate.

  The woman must be hell to play poker with.

  From the doorway, he shook his head. Why the need for such control? For such restraint she didn’t even allow for reaction to a room? What went on in that head of hers?

  She was crossing back to him, her cool eyes indicating the bags he still held in his hands. In silent acquiescence, he walked a few steps forward and placed the bags on the bed.

  “And the bathroom?” she asked quietly, the words sounding abrupt after the long silence.

  “Unfortunately, there are only two bathrooms—one upstairs, one downstairs,” Mitch replied. “But as the two agents will be staggering their sleep schedules, it shouldn’t be too hard to coordinate.”

  If the arrangement displeased her, none of it showed on her face. Instead, she looked at him with speculative eyes. “Why only two agents? Why send the rest away?”

  “The more there are, the harder it is to hide,” he said in his low voice. “A party of eight would be conspicuous. It would require a larger house, more vehicles, more supplies. Smaller numbers make for simplicity.”

  “How many times have you done this before?”

  “Fifteen or sixteen,” he said, counting forward from when he’d become an independent specialist and had started this program.

  “And did it always work?”

  “So far, yes.”

  “So far? What about now, Mr. Guiness? What do you think will happen this time?”

  He looked at her, spearing her with his dark brown gaze until she had to consciously force herself not to turn away. “That’ll depend on you. And by all means, call me Mitch. We’re going to get to know each other real well in the coming weeks.”

  Once again her stomach clenched and unclenched. Once again she felt the faint shudder in her spine. Oh, but that was exactly what she was afraid of.

  “I’m feeling tired,” she announced abruptly. “I would like to rest now.”