Code Name: Bundle!

by Christina Skye

  She didn’t argue. She simply did what she wanted.

  “Mom, it’s Izzy. Everything okay?”

  “Well, it certainly is now, honey. I was just thinking about you. Those bulbs we planted together last year have come up and I’ve never seen a prettier sight.” She laughed, a soft ripple of sound. “Of course, the sight of you carrying your suitcase home for a visit would be a prettier sight still, but I won’t say that. How are you? I’ve got a feeling you’ve made some new electronic discovery or broken a new code since we last spoke. Am I right?”

  She was, but Izzy couldn’t tell her the details. Now that he was certain she was safe, he cut through the preliminaries. “I’m fine, Mom. But I need you to do something for me. I want you to go up to Maine and visit Uncle Harris. No questions.”

  His mother’s laughter rippled. “Go to Maine now? Why, honey, the gardening season is just starting. I’ve got the whole backyard to finish—”

  “Mom, please.” Izzy’s voice took on an edge. “I need you to do this for me now.”

  A silence fell. He heard the sound of ceramic as if she had rested her favorite teacup on a fragile plate. “Now?” she repeated the word, thoughtful this time. Not frightened, but measuring. “So something is wrong,” she said quietly. “Are you hurt again, honey? If something has happened to you, you need to tell me.”

  “I’m fine. I’d tell you if anything was wrong. I promised you that, remember?”

  “But something bad has happened.”

  “Mom, I’ve got to concentrate. I’ll probably have to travel on a moment’s notice, and I need to know that you’ll be safe.”

  Izzy’s uncle Harris was an ex-Delta man with highest-level sniper training. Half a dozen of his military friends with similar training were now retired and scattered through the area. Oh, yes, Izzy’s precious mother would be safe in Maine.

  But first she had to get there.

  “Honey, I can’t just—”

  “We agreed, Mom. I don’t ask often. When I do, you need to leave. Go to Uncle Harris.”

  “It’s something very dangerous then.” She didn’t sound frightened, simply put out by the disruption of her schedule. “Very well. I’ll check the airline schedule tonight, then finish my new mulch. I should be packed and ready to go by morning.”

  “Now.” Izzy’s voice was firm. He didn’t want to betray his fear, but he needed her compliance. “Don’t pack, don’t plant more flowers, don’t put away your tea. Take your purse and go next door. Ask Elias to drive you straight to the airport. You have the credit cards I left you. When you get there, stay in a public area and buy the next flight to Portland.”

  Silence fell. His mother took a little breath. Now there was a hint of worry in her voice. “It must be something very unusual. Are you safe, honey?”

  “Mom, I’m fine. But you need to go now.”

  “Very well, I’ll leave with nothing but the clothes on my back. I can see Elias out in his yard now. That’s funny.”

  Izzy felt a wave of cold skim knifelike across his neck. “What’s funny?”

  “There’s a man with Elias. A man in a courier’s uniform. He’s holding a box and pointing to my house. But I haven’t ordered anything.”

  Fear raced to the base of Izzy’s stomach, so tight he couldn’t breathe. “Do not accept any packages. Get your purse and go straight out the back door. Stay behind the rose hedge and walk to Elias’s side porch. Are you listening to me, Mom? No matter what happens, do not get near any package of any sort.”

  “Oh, yes, honey. I’ve seen the movies. It could be an IED, couldn’t it?”

  Improvised explosive device.

  Somehow on his mother’s lips, the definition sounded neat and tidy, like a home bread-making unit. Except that Cruz wasn’t into baking.

  Only into ripping lives apart.

  Izzy held the phone tightly. He had to talk his mother through this. There would be no time to summon help. “Mom, do you have the cell phone I gave you for Christmas?”

  “Of course I do, honey. I keep it upstairs in that nice little box you gave me.”

  Izzy suppressed a curse. He’d given her the highest technology available, and she used it as a doorstop in her sewing room.

  He took a deep breath. This is exactly why you didn’t deal with family: because family clouded up your vision, tangled your emotions and generally turned all your logic skills to shit.

  He looked down at his fingers tensed to a fist. Slowly he forced the muscles to relax. “Okay, I’m going to tell you exactly what to do. Listen to me and walk upstairs while I talk. Can you do that?”

  “Of course I can, honey. I’m not senile yet.”

  “No one said you were, Mom. Now walk upstairs, get the cell phone and turn it on. Then walk back downstairs, take your purse and go next door. Are you walking yet?”

  “I’m going.” Izzy heard what sounded like a box rattling. “I’ve got the cell phone, honey. It looks so pretty, too.”

  Advanced encryption technology, superior clarity and international dialing capability—and she called it pretty. Suppressing a sigh, Izzy glanced at his watch, noting the time. Every second seemed like an eternity now. “Is the battery in? Do you know how to turn it on?”

  “Of course I do. Everything’s all set. It has the time showing just like you said it would.”

  “Good, Mom. I’m going to dial you and when I get through I want you to hang up the house phone.” As he dialed his backup cell phone, Izzy heard the ring on the other end of the line.

  His mother answered crisply. “Yes, I’m here. But I must tell you, all this cloak and dagger business—”

  “Is necessary.” Izzy’s voice was firm, cold. His mother had only a vague idea of the work he did. She knew it was important, secret and all consuming. But Izzy had purposely kept her in the dark as to the dangers he faced. Now he regretted that. “Where are you now?”

  “Getting my purse. Now I’m walking outside and locking the door.” Izzy heard a door latch. “Everything’s fine. You see? You’re going overboard with all this spy business. No one is going to jump out from behind a tree and fire a gun at me.”

  Her voice broke up, caught in static for a moment. “Mom, are you there?”

  No answer.

  “Mom.” Izzy gripped the phone, sweat beading his forehead. He could hear the sound of the wind and a distant call of a bird. Damn it, why didn’t she answer?

  Static hissed and crackled.

  Izzy stared at the telephone, willing his mother to answer him in a calm, normal voice and tell him to stop worrying, that everything was all right.

  More static.

  And then out of the empty air he heard an explosion roar through the phone, followed by his mother’s scream.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “PROBATION? You can’t be serious.”

  Gina stood at a long steel counter, melted chocolate streaking her cuffs and cheek as she glared at Tobias. “I’ve never had a complaint, never even been written up before.”

  The security chief shifted his weight from side to side. “I know that. You’re on probation, just the same.”

  “Why? We tossed out all the food that was tampered with. You saw us do that.” She shoved her hands onto her hips, in full battle mode. “Nothing like that would ever go out of my kitchen.”

  “It’s not about the food.” Tobias stood stiffly. “Blaine reported you for drunkenness and fighting. She said you threatened her and shoved her, too.”

  “That’s rubbish. No one is going to believe that.”

  “She has a witness to back her up,” Tobias said quietly.

  “That’s impossible. No one else will support her. Besides, I didn’t say anything that was a threat.”

  Tobias held out a sheet of paper. “Not according to Imogen. She corroborated Blaine’s story.”

  Gina put a chocolate-covered hand on the counter, shaken. “Imogen? I don’t believe it. She wouldn’t back up Blaine.” But there was no mistaking th
e name and signature on the bottom of the official complaint form.

  Imogen had worked with Gina for almost four years. Gina had met her family in Mazatlán a year ago. This couldn’t be happening.

  “Where is she? I need to talk with her.”

  “She’s in the infirmary right now. The last I saw her, she was throwing up, spiking a fever. Intestinal virus or the flu, probably.”

  “I’m still going to see her.”

  Tobias shook his head. “You can’t discuss this with her, not after a formal complaint has been filed. You know the procedure.”

  He was right. Gina closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around her chest.

  Probation. It felt like a sudden body blow. That Imogen, a friend, had signed Blaine’s complaint made the news infinitely more painful.

  “I’m supposed to get a chance to dispute this at a public hearing.”

  Tobias nodded. “When we dock in San Francisco, you’ll have your chance. We’ll all have our chance to speak,” he added grimly. “Meanwhile, watch your step. If Blaine finds one more area of complaint, you will be relieved pending a review.”

  “Cruella De Vil isn’t going to drive me away.” Gina glared down at a plate of éclairs cooling from the oven. “This is one battle she won’t win.”

  But Blaine had picked her time well. Andreas had been struck by the same bug, which left Gina seriously short-staffed. It would mean twelve-hour days to keep up. Since she was understaffed, it would also be easier for an outsider to sneak into her kitchen for more sabotage.

  So she would sleep here at her desk and never leave the kitchen, if it came to that. She was drawing a line in the sand. Blaine’s sabotage was ending here and now.

  Ignoring a pang at the thought of Imogen’s betrayal, Gina turned back to stir her chocolate ganache. She cleared her throat. “I may have a little problem. Actually, the problem is a kitten.”

  “You can’t have a pet on board, Gina. You know ship policy.”

  “I know, I know. But one of the children found a stray cat. She gave it to Trace about an hour ago.” Gina was still furious at the way he had brushed her off. What had changed him from calm and controlled to tense and curt in a matter of hours?

  “The cat is downstairs in my cabin. The girls told Trace that the engineering crew was going to drown him. He’s very cute.”

  “Who cares if he’s cute? Do you know what will happen if you’re caught? Especially now?”

  “I know. That’s why I’m asking you for a favor. No one will be looking in your cabin, so I thought maybe…”

  Tobias stared at her, incredulous. “You expect me to break out the Meow Mix?” He shook his head. “I’m regretting this already, but okay, I’ll take him until we reach port. Then he goes ashore.”

  “No problem,” Gina said eagerly. “I’ll go get him from my cabin now.”

  “Never mind. I’ll send one of my crew. He’ll know enough to keep his mouth shut,” Tobias said. “Meanwhile, remember that Blaine is on the warpath.”

  Silence descended, sudden and unmistakable. When Gina turned around, Trace was standing in the doorway.

  An effortless sense of command crackled around him. He was doing the thousand-yard stare like a real pro. “We need to talk.”

  Gina knew the look well. Soldiers and police officers counted on it for control and intimidation. She had seen her share of it.

  Though he didn’t move a muscle, didn’t say a word, it was clear that he was in full command mode. With one look at his face her kitchen staff had gone silent. Even Tobias seemed to feel the effect.

  “We need to talk now,” he repeated flatly.

  Gina had three workers out sick, a temperamental oven to babysit and 780 cheesecakes to oversee for the dinner seating. She shook her head. “I can’t go anywhere.”

  Okay, she was still irritated about the way he had brushed her off in the hallway. So this was payback, but it was also a way to fight her curiosity. “Maybe later.” She turned away, reaching for a clean candy thermometer, and gasped when a callused hand gripped her shoulder.

  His body was too close, his face too hard as he leaned down. “Now.”

  Gina looked at his eyes, saw the cold focus there. Unnerved, she felt the thermometer slip from her fingers, roll across the counter and drop toward the floor.

  He lunged with one hand and caught the metal with reflexes almost too fast to imagine.

  She took a step back, stunned by what she had just seen. There was a difference about him now, an alienness that made her skin prickle and the little hairs stand up along her neck.

  He saw her look of surprise. “Patience, focus and excellent reflexes,” he murmured. His eyes cut across to Tobias. “You’re coming, too. Where can we talk privately?”

  Whatever he read in Trace’s face made Tobias nod slowly. “My office. It’s just across the hall.”

  Trace shook his head, glancing quickly around the kitchen. “Somewhere else.”

  “Up on deck. I know a place.”

  Trace seemed to consider the idea, then shook his head. “Not on deck. Somewhere below. Somewhere with noise.”

  Noisy so they wouldn’t be overheard, Gina realized. Noisy so that listening devices would be useless.

  Cold air seemed to play across her neck and shoulders, making her shiver. Something had changed.

  After leaving detailed instructions with an assistant, she removed her chef’s jacket and keyed out of her computer station. “You’ve got fifteen minutes. That’s all I can spare.”

  Trace glanced at Tobias. “Somewhere close. Maybe a utility area down in engineering.”

  Tobias was already moving.

  “THERE’S NOT MUCH I can tell you.” Trace scanned the small room lined with nautical ropes and spare lighting equipment. “It’s classified. But I can tell you that we are facing a threat situation.”

  “So you’re not a regular passenger. This is part of your job?” Gina stood stiffly near the wall. “Is the ship in danger?”

  “Not that we know of,” Trace said.

  “Who do you work for?”

  “Irrelevant. What matters now is that you do exactly what I say.”

  “If there’s a threat to this ship, I need to report it immediately.” Tobias looked angry. “I also need the source of this information.”

  “You’ll be told everything that’s permissible. That decision is not mine to make,” Trace said.

  “Then whose?” Tobias snapped. “I have a duty to my ship, my captain and to one hell of a lot of civilians.”

  “Someone will be waiting at the dock tomorrow in Puerto Vallarta. He’ll fill in the blanks.”

  Gina threw up her hands. “You’re telling us nothing. And why are we standing in this stuffy little room whispering?”

  “It’s the only place currently secure. We have no reason to think that the ship as a whole is being targeted, but we’ll be watching for any signs of that.”

  “Not good enough.” Frowning, Tobias moved past Trace toward the door. “I need to report to the captain. Otherwise—”

  The walkie-talkie in his pocket suddenly crackled with static. “Tobias, you are wanted on the bridge. Immediately.”

  The captain.

  Trace crossed his arms. “The captain will be told all that he needs to be told. There will be full approval for whatever orders come down.”

  “Are we talking about one man or a group of men?” Tobias stood by the door, waiting for answers.

  “One man, but he’s like no other man you’ve ever encountered.”

  Tobias looked back at Trace. “This sabotage in the kitchen—is there any connection?”

  “We have no reason to think so.”

  “But there could be.”

  “Highly unlikely. But not impossible,” Trace added. “Meanwhile I will be in and out of the staff area and kitchen, and I’m going to need an ironclad cover.”

  “Don’t think you can work as part of my staff. We already discussed that. Besides, you’d pra
ctically need a presidential order to get it past corporate.”

  Trace’s mouth quirked slightly. “Let’s not bother him if it isn’t necessary.”

  Gina’s mouth fell open.

  “You could do that, couldn’t you?” Tobias said quietly.

  “Not me. It’s…the job.” Trace’s voice was cool, precise.

  Tobias strode back to the door. “You’ve bought yourself one hour. Before that time is up, I expect to have e-mail corroboration of everything you’ve told me. Make sure it’s believable and confirmable.”

  The heavy door hissed shut.

  After he had gone, Gina started toward the door, but Trace took a step in front of her. “We’re not done here.”

  “I’d say we are. I don’t like secrets and evasions.” She blew out an angry breath. “And if something important is happening, why would you want to hang around in my kitchen?”

  “Because it gives me access to places I need to be. It stops questions when I appear at odd times either day or night. People won’t wonder if they think it’s personal.” Trace put up one arm, leaning against the wall. The same movement brought their bodies closer.

  “Personal how?”

  “I need you, Gina.” His voice was low. “Need me?” Gina stood stiffly. “How?”

  “I need us together, in and out at all hours, looking happy and distracted and absolutely caught.”

  “Caught in what?”

  His hand curved, slipping along her cheek. “This.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  HIS LIPS BRUSHED HERS, then locked hard. He pressed her back urgently, her shoulders to the wall and her thighs cradled between his.

  Fires raced over Gina’s skin. She couldn’t seem to breathe, definitely couldn’t think straight. “Wait. You—you want me to pretend we’re in love, having wild sex on walls and countertops?”

  “Bingo.”

  “But you’re not telling me why it’s so important?”

  Something came and went in Trace’s eyes. Impatience changed to wariness. “I can’t.”

  But Gina was tired of secrets and evasions. Caution had its place when you were tempering chocolate or heating sugar for caramel, but not in a relationship.