“I can continue our sleuthing.”
She widened her eyes. “From Afghanistan or Pakistan or Libya or wherever you’re going? I don’t think so, Quinn.”
In two steps, he was at the bed and sitting on the edge. “Then we’ll figure it out, and then maybe you don’t have to go back to Jamaica. You can go back to your job and I can do mine and maybe we can be together—freewheeling and fancy-free, no strings, nothing to tie us down except each other.”
Rikki sucked in her lower lip. “That’s what you want?”
“That’s what I always wanted. I don’t understand why I scared you off in Dubai to the point you felt you had to run away. Yeah, I felt something deep for you, maybe deeper than you felt yourself, but that never meant I wanted to restrict you, make you give up the job you love. Hell, my job isn’t exactly a nine-to-five, white-picket-fence deal.”
“We have to talk this through first.” Rikki twisted her fingers. “There’s a lot I have to tell you.”
“About your time in the labor camp and your escape?” He cupped his hand over one of her knees. “I do want to hear about that, Rikki. It’ll only make me think you’re more amazing than I already do.”
“It’s not just that, Quinn. Jamaica...”
“You’re not going to tell me you have a boyfriend in Jamaica, are you?” He curled his fingers into her leg. “I don’t even care. I know I love you more than anyone else could.”
She pressed her fingers against her bottom lip and whispered, “Quinn.”
“So whatever it is...” He jerked his head toward the ringing phone on the table by the window. “That’s not my regular phone. That’s the burner, and nobody has that number except Belinda.”
“Or random telemarketers.”
Quinn pushed himself off the bed and lunged for the phone. “It’s her.”
He jabbed the button to answer and to put the phone on speaker at the same time. “Hello? Agent Miller.”
“Agent Miller, this is Belinda Dawson.”
“Mrs. Dawson, did you find some of your husband’s equipment after all?” He rolled his eyes at Rikki, who’d followed him off the bed and had her hip wedged against the table.
“Let’s cut to the chase, Miller, if that’s really your name.”
Quinn swallowed. “Pardon me, ma’am?”
“You can cut the Southern boy charm, too. I’m immune.”
“I’m afraid you lost me, Mrs. Dawson.”
“I almost lost you last night to that thug watching my house night and day.”
Rikki grabbed his wrist, her eyes taking up half her face.
“You’re going to have to explain yourself, Mrs. Dawson.”
“You and I both know my husband is alive, Agent Miller, and I can give you the proof you need.”
Chapter Twelve
Rikki clapped a hand over her mouth. Why was Belinda doing this? Why was she outing David?
Quinn braced his hands on the table and hunched over the phone. “Why would you give me proof that your husband is alive?”
“That’s what you were sniffing around here for, wasn’t it? You and your...partner seemed awfully interested in that photo of David—the one taken after his supposed death. When you zeroed in on that picture, I finally felt a glimmer of hope.”
Quinn raised his eyebrows at Rikki, but all she could do was shrug. She had no idea where Belinda was going with this.
Quinn cleared his throat. “What do you mean by hope? Hope for what?”
“David swore me to secrecy about his betrayal. He warned me that I’d lose everything if the CIA found out he’d been spying for the enemy. He sent people to watch me, to keep tabs on me.”
“How do you know my partner and I aren’t just two more watchdogs?”
Rikki nodded at Quinn. He knew all the right questions—the same ones she’d be asking.
“You were fishing. They don’t fish. Your unexpected appearance on my doorstep yesterday told me that the CIA has doubts about David’s story.”
Rikki scribbled a question on a napkin and shoved it toward Quinn.
He gave her a thumbs-up. “Why didn’t you just call the CIA yourself and report this?”
“You’re kidding.” Belinda gave a soft snort. “You work for the Agency, so you should understand. I don’t know whom to trust over there. I didn’t know who was in on it, or even if his fake death had been sanctioned by someone over there. I wasn’t about to step out of line, but you two...”
Quinn cut her off and with a gruff voice asked, “If you trusted us so much, why did you call the dogs on us last night?”
Belinda released a long sigh. “That wasn’t me.”
“The alarm system, the lights, the door? You even took the picture.”
“They ordered me to do all that. They knew you’d been there.” She sobbed. “They bugged my house.”
Quinn’s gaze locked on to Rikki’s. “And now? How do you know you’re not being bugged now?”
“I bought a throwaway phone, and I’m at a restaurant waiting to have brunch with my friend. David taught me well.”
Rikki couldn’t contain herself anymore. “Why are you turning on your husband now, Mrs. Dawson?”
Belinda sucked in a quick breath over the line. “I’m tired of living this way. David was supposed to send for me, but he hasn’t. I can’t trust anyone. I don’t want to get on the bad side of the CIA and be tried as a traitor. I’d be willing to...you know, testify against him to save myself.”
Rikki avoided Quinn’s warning looks and plunged ahead. “At the beginning of the call, you said you had proof that David is alive. Is that the picture?”
“That and other things. I’ll turn them over to you so you can go after him and I can be protected. I will be protected, won’t I?”
Clamping a hand on Rikki’s shoulder, Quinn answered the desperate wife. “I think we can work something out. How do you propose to get us this proof if you’re under such close watch?”
“There are ways. I have a lot of old friends in this town, and I socialize quite frequently. In fact, I’m meeting old friends tonight for cocktails. If Agent Reid were to stop by our table, just another Savannah socialite...or friend of my husband’s, who would question that?”
Quinn shook his head at her, and Rikki put her finger to her lips. “Let’s hear the plan, Mrs. Dawson.”
As Belinda laid out her scheme to pass off proof that David had faked his death, Quinn peppered her with questions and Rikki took a few notes.
When she finished, Belinda said, with a hitch in her voice, “I really want to do this. I need to think about myself now.”
“I’ll be there, Mrs. Dawson.”
Quinn ended the call and tapped the edge of the phone against his chin. “Why should we trust her?”
“Because her reasoning sounds plausible.”
“What if it’s a trick to get us on someone’s radar?”
“If it is, we can outmaneuver them. We did it last night when we weren’t even expecting a trap. This time we’ll be even more on our guard and on our game. Besides—” she ran a hand down his tense back “—why would Belinda admit the truth about David being alive if she weren’t on the up-and-up?”
Quinn’s back got even stiffer. “It wouldn’t matter...if she planned to have us killed.”
Rikki’s hand stopped midcircle where she was rubbing Quinn’s back. “I need this proof, Quinn. Nobody is going to believe me, or worse yet, some anonymous tip that Agent David Dawson is a traitor who faked his own death.”
“Ariel will believe you. Take this to her and let her launch an investigation.”
“There’s no denying Ariel is pretty untouchable in the intelligence community, but she has her hands full running the Vlad task force.”
“You said it yourself, Rikki. We could make a good case th
at this is about Vlad.”
“A good case? A string of undeciphered, coded emails and the word of a disgraced CIA agent, presumed dead?” She slid her hand down his arm and entwined her fingers with his. “I have to do this, Quinn. I won’t be by myself, right? You’ll be there to look out for me.”
“I don’t like it, Rikki. I know better than anyone that a sniper can pick you off at a distance and we wouldn’t realize it until it was too late.”
“Then you also know better than anyone that I can get in and out of that restaurant undercover. With you on my side, no sniper or shooter is going to get a chance at me.”
“I think you’re exaggerating my talents.” He turned and wedged a knuckle beneath her chin. “I’ll get you inside that bar, and then you have one drink or whatever Belinda has planned, get the proof and get out of there.”
“I think it’ll work, and it’s not possible for me to exaggerate your talents.”
“I’m just glad you decided to forgive me so that I could help you with all this. Not that you’re not a kick-ass agent, but at least two people need to be doing this job and I think we make a great team.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.
She rested her head against his shoulder. They did make a good team, and she planned to tell him just how much they were going to be a team to raise their daughter—as soon as they got past this danger.
* * *
A FEW HOURS after dinner, Rikki slipped on taupe sling-back heels and smoothed her beige skirt over her thighs. “What do you think? Do I look like a Southern belle born to privilege and debutante balls?”
“I don’t know about all that, but you look beautiful.” Quinn came up behind her and ran a hand through her hair. “I miss those riotous red curls, though, and how the sun would set them on fire. The last time I saw you...”
His fingers tightened in her hair, sending a tingle down her thighs.
Tipping her head into the curve of his palm, she whispered, “But that wasn’t the last time you saw me. I’m here now. We both are.”
He pressed a kiss against her temple. “Let’s keep it that way. Are you sure you want to meet Belinda? It could be a trap. She could have someone waiting for us.”
“I have to get my hands on this proof.” She placed a finger over his lips. “Why would she want us out of the picture? She knows we don’t have any other evidence that David is alive.”
“Why did the guy last night taking shots at us want us out of the way?”
“Because if he’s working with David, he doesn’t know what we have. He doesn’t know what Belinda told us. He was trying to eliminate a possible threat.”
“Let’s get this over with. I can see there’s no talking you out of it. You might as well have that red hair on your head, because you’re just as stubborn as a brunette.”
“Red hair does not make you stubborn.” She gave Quinn a playful push while a smile curved her lips as she thought about little red-haired Bella already trying to assert herself at nine months old.
Rikki grabbed a light sweater from the back of the chair and held it up. “Just in case they’re blasting the air in the bar.”
Before they left the hotel, Quinn called a car for her and saw her safely inside before heading for his own vehicle.
Rikki waved to him out the back window and settled in her seat with a sense of excitement buzzing through her veins. She’d been made for this work. If she could clear her name, how would she reconcile her career with motherhood? Bella meant more to her than anything in the world, more to her than a career—even this career.
And Quinn? How would he fit into it all? He’d been the one talking about forever when they were in Dubai, and that had rattled her. Now he’d changed his tune and had suggested they could both pursue their careers and meet up all over the world when they could. Now she had to break it to him that they had a child together.
She sighed and pressed her fingers against the window. “Almost there?”
“Just about. Ever been to Savannah Joe’s before?”
“Nope.”
“Nice place. You gotta try the mint juleps—best in the city.”
“I’ll do that. Thanks for the tip.”
The driver pulled up in front of the restaurant-bar, and Rikki thanked him and slipped out of the backseat. As Quinn had instructed, she ducked her head and made a beeline for the entrance. If someone had a rifle trained on the entrance to the restaurant, he’d have to recognize her first and set up a shot. She’d given him no time for that at all.
Stepping through the front door, she let out a breath. Belinda had explained the layout—a restaurant in front with tables behind large screened windows, and a busy bar in the back on the river.
As the hostess approached her, Rikki pointed to the back and then made her way to the large bar that separated the dining area from the cocktail lounge.
She rubbed her lips together, moistening her lipstick, and squared her shoulders as she stepped down into the bar area. She scanned the room, and Belinda’s subtle wave caught her attention.
Quinn didn’t have to worry about the setup. This bar, packed with people, didn’t exactly lend itself to ambush and murder at the end of a sniper’s rifle.
Rikki plastered a smile on her face and wended her way through the tables to reach Belinda and her two friends, crowded around a cocktail table.
Belinda half rose from her seat. “Here she is. Peyton, this is Melissa and Jordan. Ladies, Peyton, a friend of David’s family.”
“So nice to meet you.” Rikki shared limp handshakes with the other two women and sat next to Belinda. “This is a great place. I heard the mint juleps are to die for.”
“Have this one.” Belinda shoved a tall glass with a spray of mint in front of Rikki. “I’ve already had one, and these two already ordered another round.”
“Thank you.” Rikki smoothed out the napkin beneath the sweating glass. She wanted to keep her wits about her tonight, get the photo and whatever else Belinda had, and get out. Quinn was supposed to be waiting at the back door of the restaurant to whisk her away once Belinda had handed off the proof in the ladies’ room.
She’d let Belinda call the shots and make the move to the ladies’ room, but this had to look like a legit social interaction in case anyone was watching Belinda.
“Looks refreshing.” Rikki swirled the straw in her glass as the waitress delivered three more drinks.
The waitress raised her eyebrows at Rikki. “Can I get you something?”
“I’m good, thanks.” Rikki tapped the glass and then almost choked when she glanced over the waitress’s shoulder and saw Quinn sitting at the bar.
He had to see that she’d be safe here. She’d rather have him keeping watch outside, and she hoped Belinda hadn’t noticed him.
“To friendships.” Belinda raised her glass in the center of the table and the other two women held up their glasses, as well.
Rikki clinked her glass with theirs. “To friendships.”
The women immediately launched into a discussion of some mutual acquaintance, ripping apart her parenting skills.
Rikki smirked. So much for friendships. She pulled the straw from the glass and sucked some liquid from the bottom of the straw—just a drop or two.
Rikki puckered her lips. She’d never had a mint julep before, and the tartness of the drink surprised her. The garnish on the drink didn’t even include a slice of lime.
She stuck the straw back in the glass and took a tentative sip.
Rikki rolled the liquid on the surface of her tongue, and her nostrils flared as the sour smell reached her nose. The drink dribbled down the back of her throat, but Rikki froze, refusing to swallow.
David’s voice floated across her consciousness, and she could picture him in the hotel room in Bangkok pinching a small vial between his fingers. “I discov
ered this here, Rikki, and it’s very useful because it has an immediate impact but proceeds to incapacitate slowly and gradually. It also has a tart taste and smell that could pass for a citrus garnish on a cocktail.”
Rikki convulsively clutched the hem of the tablecloth. The liquid had traveled too far for her to stop it unless she made a scene coughing it up.
So she allowed the poison to slide down her throat.
Chapter Thirteen
Quinn studied the four women over the rim of his beer mug. Rikki seemed to be doing a good job of acting like the long-lost friend. She laughed, chattered and sipped her mint julep along with the rest.
Did she forget this wasn’t a social call? She needed to nudge Belinda along for their meeting in the john—if Belinda planned to stick with the scheme. He didn’t trust the woman for a second.
“Another beer, sir?”
He waved off the bartender and plucked some bills from his pocket. Then from the corner of his eye, he sensed a commotion.
He jerked his head to the side to see Rikki stagger to her feet, almost upsetting her chair. His muscles coiled. His head swiveled from side to side. Nobody else had noticed.
Belinda rose from the table and placed a hand on Rikki’s arm. Maybe this was the ruse to get them to the ladies’ room.
Rikki leaned against Belinda while Belinda laughed with the other women and curled an arm around Rikki’s waist.
Quinn let out a breath. For a minute he thought Rikki might be injured, but the demeanor of the other two women didn’t support this.
Belinda would take Rikki to the ladies’ room, hand over the proof, and then they could get the hell out of here.
Quinn narrowed his eyes and followed their progress to the hallway at the back. His gaze shifted to Belinda’s friends, still at the table.
He’d give Rikki and Belinda exactly thirty seconds before he went back there himself and hustled Rikki out of the bar. Just because she’d gotten in here without incident didn’t mean they’d let her leave. Belinda could have someone waiting for them in the alley.
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