“A code name.” He typed in a request and uploaded it by scrambled Sat-Com link to secret files in the basement of a building in McLean, Virginia.
While he waited for a reply, she asked more questions. “So what was the proof my mother talked about?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know? There has to be more. She said she was going after the proof.”
“Maybe she got it. Maybe she died trying. We may never know.”
“That’s…that’s unacceptable.”
“Ah, so you don’t like dangling ends any more than I do.”
“This tells us so little.” Frustration welled up her throat and into her tone.
“It’s another piece of the puzzle.”
A Mail Waiting message blinked on his screen. Clay moved his mouse and called up the message. “Bull Dog has been a code name of three operatives. Information followed. Two of the Bull Dogs belonged to agents who hadn’t been born during your mother’s time. The third agent’s dead. At least the files say he’s dead.”
Clearly discouraged, she leaned back and slumped. “Now what?”
“You go back to sleep. I’ll dig deeper.”
MELINDA COULDN’T SLEEP. Not with the early dawn shooting a red glow across the gray mist of the morning sky. Instead of tossing and turning, she figured she might as well make breakfast.
She took out the fixings for an omelette—tomatoes, onions, green pepper and ham—then sliced and chopped and recalled how utterly wonderful Clay had been last night. He’d been the best of lovers, exciting yet tender, considerate and intoxicating. He had intimately explored her body, trying a variety of caresses and sensations until he’d discovered exactly what she liked. In fact, he’d discovered things she hadn’t even known would please her.
She turned on the stove burner and melted butter in a pan, then fried up the onions and green peppers. She put coffee on to perk for Clay and fixed a cup of hot chocolate for herself, wishing she knew what to do about her mixed feelings about Clay.
He seemed able to shut her out totally as he focused on his work. And yet…last night when she thought he was ignoring her, he had simply been waiting for her to come to him.
She glanced over at him now. Bare-chested, he looked like a warrior doing battle with his computer. Those brawny shoulders had pillowed her head, his powerful arms had lifted her easily more times than she could count. Had he put what they’d shared last night into a corner of his mind? Or was he a jumpy mass of frazzled nerve endings, too?
After setting the table, she broke eggs into a bowl and stirred vigorously. Were all his thoughts for Lolita right now? She hated to think he could shut her out so completely after the wonderful night they’d shared. But she didn’t want to ask and have her suspicions confirmed.
“That smells wonderful,” Clay told her. She was so surprised to hear him speak, she almost jumped out of her skin at the sound of his voice.
“Think you can tear yourself away from Lolita long enough to eat while the food’s still hot?”
“Just call me and I’ll be there.”
How the man could type at such a speed, and still talk and jest, was really incredible. As a warm glow spread through her, she realized that he hadn’t shut her out after all—if she didn’t mind sharing him with a machine.
Still, she found herself humming as she poured the eggs into a pan. This respite from danger had left her relaxed and happy for the first time in days. She could get used to making love with Clay throughout the night, waking at dawn and watching the sun rise.
“Let’s eat outside on the deck.” Was the man a mind reader? He came up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her neck. “Have I told you lately how gorgeous you look?”
“Not since last night. But I haven’t even combed my hair,” she protested, although she couldn’t resist feeling well pleased by his compliment.
They ate breakfast on the stern deck and watched the sun come up over the swamp. Slashes of pink and purple splashed the sky, awakening day creatures and sending night creatures to their haunts. Early-morning fog was burnt off the water as the sun rose.
They ate in awed silence, saying nothing until the sun broke across the sky. The temperature warmed quickly and she soaked up the rays.
Food finished, Clay leaned back, a satisfied gleam in his eyes. “I suppose I should get back to work.”
She placed his plate on top of hers, put the silverware on top, ready to carry the dishes back to the galley. Clay placed a hand over her wrist.
Her pulse jumped, and he must have noted her response since an eyebrow raised. “Stay a moment.”
“Sure.” She kept her tone easy but felt anything but. Just looking into his verdant-green eyes made her want him again. She wondered what he had done to her to turn her into a sex maniac. Or such a pathetic case that she couldn’t get her mind off him.
She already knew the real reason—she loved the man. She would never have responded to him physically without all her emotions in full gear. She just didn’t know how to handle herself. The feelings were too new, too raw for her to want to make any decisions. It was easier to drift, live in this moment and not think too much about their future.
“What’s the next step? Have you found any other references to Bull Dog?”
“Lolita’s still searching, but I’m not hopeful.”
“Why not?”
“This mole is buried deep. He’s had almost three decades to move up within the agency and destroy any incriminating evidence from his past. He’s smart, powerful and he has a huge head start.”
“So now what do we do?”
“Send a signal to the agency’s D.O.” At her puzzled look, he explained, “The head honcho.”
“Can the signal be traced?”
He took her hand and squeezed. “Unfortunately there’s always a possibility of an interception and trace. But it’ll be in code and very brief. Before I send the message to Lionel Tower, I want us packed, docked and ready to drive.”
“What about your equipment?”
“What about it?”
“You scanned my mother’s diaries onto the hard drive, and Lolita has the code. Can her memory be read by anyone else?”
“Before we go, I’ll destroy the drive.”
Melinda regretted they would have to leave the swamp so soon. She’d wanted to spend more time with Clay, would have enjoyed swimming with the manatees. But now that Clay had broken the code, he had no excuse to delay.
They motored back to where they’d left the car and transferred their belongings into the trunk. Clay wiped Lolita’s memory and transmitted his information to the D.O.
Minutes later, they drove back down the dirt road, retracing their route. Clay used the wipers to remove a day’s grit and dust from the windshield, his face a dark frown as he drove and simultaneously scowled at his Palm Pilot.
“What’s wrong?”
“The D.O. sent orders back. He wants me to bring the diaries to headquarters.”
“But they’re mine.”
“He wants me to bring you with them.”
He didn’t sound happy. She wasn’t so insecure that she thought Clay wanted to be rid of her after making love last night. There had been too much between them. “What’s the problem?”
“He thinks you’re still in danger.”
“And?”
“Your brother, Jake, has fled the country.”
“He’s still alive then?”
“As far as we know.”
“And my sister?”
“A sniper tried to shoot her yesterday. But she’s fine. The D.O. thinks your family won’t be safe unless we solve this mystery.”
“I don’t suppose he has any useful suggestions?”
“As a matter of fact, he does. Lionel Tower has contacts throughout the world. We might not find Bull Dog in the agency’s records, but if he’s a triple agent, maybe another country can figure out his identity.”
<
br /> “That’s good, right?” She had to ask the question because Clay sounded tight, edgy.
“If Tower starts asking questions, there’s no telling who might shake out of the woodwork. I asked him to wait until I brought you to a safe place, but he reminded me that your brother’s and sister’s lives are also at stake.”
Melinda swallowed hard. She knew about her brother and sister, and except for her short bout with amnesia, had never really forgotten they’d existed. But without faces to put with her knowledge, she tended to forget they were in trouble, too.
She’d never had much family, wasn’t accustomed to thinking about others. She’d been too busy surviving. Still, she had to do better. While she still wasn’t eager to meet her siblings, she would get over it. She kept telling herself she was reluctant because family entanglements were new to her, and she refused to look any deeper for other reasons.
The day had started with such grand hope and passion. Now the sun burning brightly overhead seemed to mock her. And the trip to headquarters in Virginia seemed as far away as the moon.
“THE FIRST ORDER of business is to make you some fake identification,” Clay told her as he drove back onto the highway, leaving the swamp, but not his fond memories of their lovemaking, behind.
“Why?” Melinda asked. “Aren’t we driving to Virginia?”
“Too predictable.”
“But we don’t even know whether anyone traced your call to the D.O.” She glanced over her shoulder as if expecting agents to materialize out of thin air behind them.
“It’s better to assume they’ll find the boat and the equipment.”
“They still won’t know where we’re headed, will they?”
She had a point, but he preferred to err on the safe side. “If they find the boat, they needn’t decode, only trace back my call to the D.O. to suspect where we might be heading.”
Melinda let out a long, low sigh, then tilted her head back against the seat. “I could never be a spy.”
“Why?”
“I like to think about things that are going to happen. You spend so much time thinking about variations and planning for alternatives that probably won’t occur.”
“We call them scenarios. It’s why I’m good at what I do. I think ahead more steps than the next guy.”
“And I appreciate your efforts on my behalf. It’s just I appreciate your other nocturnal efforts a lot more,” she teased, but he could hear the strain behind her words.
Was she already regretting their night of lovemaking? Her tone sounded almost bittersweet as if she was speaking about a fond memory that she’d left behind, instead of considering this relationship as the beginning of good things to come.
He tried to keep the conversation light. “I’m glad I pleased you. And it’s only going to get better between us.”
“You’re taking a lot for granted, mister.”
“How so?”
“You’re assuming there’s going to be a next time.”
He glanced in her direction. She might be sitting in exactly the same position, but her shoulders hitched in tight, the muscles in her neck strained, her jaw clenched. He probably shouldn’t probe, but he hated unsolved puzzles. “Why shouldn’t there be a next time?”
“I don’t want to discuss this.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Because it was too good between us, all right?” she admitted with a rush that had him pleased, confused and emotionally off balance. “I’m afraid you might become addictive.”
“And that would be bad because…?”
She totally ignored his question and changed the subject. “How are we going to get me fake ID?”
He refused to let her get away with such evasions when her answer was so important to him. “Addictive? Are you comparing my lovemaking to something bad—like a drug?”
“I wouldn’t need a fake ID unless you intended to take me on a plane. Or out of the country.”
If she didn’t already know it, he could be much more stubborn than she. “You see our relationship as something bad?”
“We don’t have a relationship. There is no relationship.”
“Then what am I?”
“An aberration.” She threw up her hands in disgust. “Did anyone ever tell you that you are impossible?”
“Not in the last forty-eight hours.”
“Or that it’s rude to interrogate your date?”
“So we don’t have a relationship and what we did last night was a date?”
“Can I borrow your gun?”
“Why?” He glanced into the mirrors, wary of danger, but saw nothing alarming.
“Because I want to shoot you. Throw something at you. Attack you.”
He chuckled. “You can attack me later. If you need a weapon, there’s always the erotic oil.”
“I should know better than to try and win an argument with a man who speaks twelve languages. But all your fancy wordplay doesn’t change my feelings.”
“Which are?”
“My business.”
“I want your feelings to be our business.”
“You know what my daddy used to tell me?”
“What?”
“You can want in one hand and spit in the other. Which one will fill up first?”
He shook his head. “If that’s the kind of thing your father used to tell his little girl, I’m glad he wasn’t around much. Does that saying mean that you can’t have what you want?”
“Maybe.”
“And what exactly do you want?”
“Last week I wanted to open my own business with the clientele I’ve been building. I wanted to spend my free time on Daytona beach windsailing with my friends. You think you can find the right words to tell me that you might fit into my life?”
For once he didn’t have an answer. He couldn’t give up his work. After completing this assignment, he’d return to work on a dozen critical assignments that demanded his round-the-clock attention. For the first time in years, the idea pained him.
Melinda would be opening her business, sailing through the ocean, living life, and he wouldn’t be there with her. He imagined they’d share a few awkward phone calls that would dwindle then disappear over time. This episode would turn into a favorite interlude. He would lose her.
Even if he asked her to move to Virginia, give up her friends and business and the sister and brother she had yet to meet, he wouldn’t have much time to spend with her. And he thought too much of her to ask her to give up so much when he could give back so little.
What the hell had he been thinking last night when they’d made wild, uninhibited love? For once he hadn’t planned ahead, he’d just gone with the flow. No, not a flow—a raging-hot tide of need that had almost drowned him.
Just thinking how good it had been made him want her all over again.
“Clay?”
Her sharp tone tugged him out of his thoughts, making him think that wasn’t the first time that she’d said his name.
“What?”
“At the last exit, a car pulled onto the highway. It changed lanes and passed a few cars, then settled one vehicle behind us. It’s probably nothing, but I caught a glimpse of the men. They look familiar.”
“Like the two who attacked us at the bungalow?”
She nodded. “I’m not positive, but thought I should mention it.”
At least one of them had their mind on business. Their conversation about the future had distracted him from his task. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, let it happen again.
He stepped on the gas, slowly accelerating until he had to swing into the left lane to pass the semi-truck in front of him. As he veered back into the right lane, he saw a white sedan pass the car that had formerly been behind them.
Coincidence? Maybe. But with the semi-truck between them, now might be the best chance he had to lose the tail.
“Hold on tight.”
Chapter Twelve
Clay needed to lose the tail as f
ast as possible. Pressing the gas pedal to the floor, he pushed the car’s acceleration to the maximum. Wind roared against the glass. He passed drivers, one gave him the finger, several swore or honked. Behind him the tailing car speeded, too.
Clay was all too aware how quickly Aleksi Polozkova and Jon Khorkina could call in local law enforcement to help in the pursuit, or even military choppers to track them from overhead. The decisions he made in the next few minutes were critical to evading their pursuers.
He took the first exit off the interstate. “Tighten your seat belt.”
Beside him, Melinda didn’t say a word. Her face had turned pale, and her eyes looked way too big, but she seemed determined not to distract him for even an instant.
Clay’s first objective, to gain enough lead so the chase car couldn’t keep them in the direct line of sight, was hampered by a lack of traffic and one straight road with no cross streets. With no choices to make except to keep the gas pedal floored, he continued checking the rearview mirror.
“Are we gaining on them?” Melinda asked.
“I don’t think so. You have any idea where we are?” Clay asked, praying the two-laner didn’t dwindle to a country road. Not that he’d mind confronting the two goons back there, but he would never forget that his primary objective was to protect Melinda. Finding her mother’s documents and bringing them and Melinda to the D.O. hadn’t changed his mission. It had simply made it more difficult to accomplish.
“Wouldn’t your Palm Pilot have access to maps?” she asked.
“Yes, but we don’t have time to stop. There isn’t even time for me to take my gaze off the road.”
Beside him, she reached into his front shirt pocket and plucked out the gadget. “So give me instructions.”
Clay would have grinned if he wasn’t so worried. What other woman would ask him to teach her to use the complicated device while he drove over a hundred miles an hour? But there was no good reason why she couldn’t pull up the information. “The power button’s on the bottom right-hand corner,” he began.
She made a few mistakes but actually caught on quickly. Her major problem seemed to be reading the tiny screen while the car jolted and hurled over every bump in the road. “According to the Global Positioning System—”
Lovers in Hiding Page 15
