by Debra Webb
Suddenly the cabin didn’t feel safe at all. Jason Grant had been top of his class as a sniper and served in both the military and local law enforcement. If he knew they were here, that she “stole” his director, or worse, if he was working with those trying to discredit Thomas...
“The management agency knows there’s a renter up here this weekend,” she considered aloud. “I’m sure they’ll send someone to clear the road. We’ll get you to the resort in time to walk Casey down the aisle. Hopefully tonight, but definitely by tomorrow.”
“First things first,” he said stepping close enough to crowd her.
She cursed her skittering pulse, but she held her ground. Barely. He couldn’t possibly be entertaining the same romantic fantasy she’d been struggling to ignore since they arrived safely last night.
This was Thomas Casey, famous for his ability to escape impossible missions and terrible danger unscathed. His focus and dedication to the task were legendary and, providing she kept her hormones in check, they’d rescue his reputation before it suffered permanent damage.
“We have to neutralize whoever set this in motion,” he was saying. “I won’t lead an explosives expert to the wedding and put Casey and the rest in danger.”
“What do you suggest?”
“I want to pick apart the Germany mission while we wait for the snowplow. It’s the only place we worked closely. The only place the virus and Whelan intersect.”
“Okay.” She’d only been the contact and egress for the Isely case. She hadn’t known anything about Whelan. She wasn’t sure how much help she could offer him, but she’d damned give him her best effort.
“Assuming the snowplow arrives soon, let’s make a reservation in Glenstone for tonight and tomorrow.”
Startled, it took her a second to react. “In which name?” They both had more than one alias they could use long enough to get a hotel reservation. Grateful for the excuse, she stepped away from the heat his presence stirred to retrieve the tablet and open a search.
“Use my real name.”
She pressed her fingers to her eyes. “You want to bait Whelan.”
“I want to bait the person who hired him.”
“It’s a mistake.”
“Why?”
* * *
THOMAS WATCHED HER chew on her full lower lip a moment. It was a temptation and a distraction he couldn’t afford, but he was helpless to look anywhere else. They needed to leave before he said to hell with his reputation and the wedding and he just gave in to the weather and circumstances for a chance to be alone with her.
Never before had he entertained the idea of forgetting the job and the various crises plaguing the real world. But that’s what Jo did to him. He told himself he’d walked away five years ago to protect her, that his work put anyone he cared about at risk. If he didn’t get them out of here soon, the truth would be inescapable.
She made him want something he gave up long ago. Intimacy. Companionship. Something that went deeper than a fast affair between two agents killing time or playing a role on the job. He longed to hold her for hours, to stay hidden away and out of reach of spies, lies and covert operations. Johara DeRossi represented too many things he couldn’t have.
“Wouldn’t the great Thomas Casey have more sense than to use his real name when brokering a deal like this?”
“I’d think anyone who thinks I’d betray my country at my niece’s wedding is banking on me to be just that arrogant.”
She tilted her head as she weighed his suggestion. “You have a point.”
He knew that. Still it stung she agreed so readily. Was this insecurity now? Good grief, how much lower would he fall before this wedding party turned nightmare was over?
“Come here and help me choose a place.”
“You don’t need my input.”
“If you don’t I’ll use your card to book the most expensive option.”
“You’ve done that before.”
“I have indeed.” Her dark eyes danced with mischief under those thick lashes. Was she thinking about the last hotel room they’d shared? God help him, he’d never managed to erase the memories. Even now, he struggled to chase the images from his mind.
“Then go for it. I assume in this fairy tale I’m getting paid handsomely for the virus, I might as well enjoy the money.”
“Want to give me some tactical data to work with?”
“No need. Book anything. We aren’t actually going there tonight, we just want Whelan and whoever he’s working with to think we are.”
“All right.” She had the reservation made and confirmed in less than two minutes. “Consider it done.”
“Jo.” His throat dry, he swallowed and tried again. He had to focus on the business. “Can you pull up a map of Glenstone?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
He walked up behind her, careful to keep enough distance since a touch would be awkward. Thomas took one look at the bird’s-eye view of the mountain village and knew his plan could work. The small business district was split by one main street, several blocks long. The mountains crowded one side, a valley fell away on the other. Yes, whoever was playing him knew all about the Germany mission. It narrowed the list of enemies considerably. Down to one, actually.
Whelan, with cleverly orchestrated help, was here to take him out. At least it made the motive clear enough. The man was all about the money and Thomas had cost him plenty when he’d taken down the Isely family. But there was more. He had made Whelan look bad.
He put his hands in his pockets to keep from touching her while the plan formed with perfect clarity in his mind.
“What am I missing?” she asked.
“What’s the first thing I asked you to do for me in Germany?”
“Give you the weapons and a transmitter.”
He grinned. “After that.”
Her eyebrows drew together in a small frown. “Follow the money.”
“Exactly. Not the biologist or the lab. The money. Whelan isn’t here to point out a fictitious buyer. He’s here to make up for a lost payday and erase the one failure from his record. We can use that to our advantage.”
“How can you be so sure without searching his financials? Without knowing who let him into the States?”
He didn’t want to tell her he had Jason looking into those aspects. He also didn’t want to tell her the other reason Whelan hated him. An old pain twisted in his gut. Truth was Thomas should have seen this coming. “If we ambush him here or here—” he reached around her, pointing to the most likely choke points on the one decent road in and out of Glenstone “—we can stop him and interrogate him before he makes another attempt on our lives.”
“Interrogate or eliminate?”
“Interrogate. I intend to know which agent or agency bought his ridiculous story.”
She leaned back and folded her arms across her chest. “Sounds to me like you’re going against your own training.”
“How so?”
“You’re going in without several pertinent details.”
“Trust me, Whelan is primarily money motivated. Someone is paying him to cause this havoc, which ties right in with the revenge he yearns for. Plus, we know he’s not working alone.”
She sat forward again. “You’re assuming it was Whelan with a driver who took a shot at us after the airport attempt failed.”
“I am.”
“Okay, let’s work out a strategy to beat an ambush. But the results are on you.”
Which was precisely what he wanted. He didn’t want her—or anyone else—further embroiled in this mess. He trusted Grant to have warned Lucas about Whelan. He trusted Lucas to protect the wedding party. Now it was up to him to clear his name and protect Jo in the process.
“Great.” They had a plan he felt could work. “Now let’s go clear off the car so we’re ready to move when the snowplow shows up.”
“I thought you wanted to rehash the Isely mission.”
“We can multitask.” He
was already sliding into his slightly charred sport coat and the gloves she’d bought for him last night. Eager, sure, but it also gave him that essential distance...from this intimate setting. “If we hurry, we might have time to dry out our shoes before we have to leave for Glenstone.”
“Hmm.” She slid into his overcoat. “You’ve given this a lot of thought.”
“I have.” More than she knew.
“When did you sleep?” Her hand fell lightly on his sleeve, but it was enough contact to stop him in his tracks. He felt himself getting lost in those dark eyes of hers again. If she gave any indication she was open to another kiss, that she still thought of those days in Austria or had any lingering feelings for him, he’d leap. But he couldn’t think like that. Not until this was over anyway.
“Promise me something?”
Looking down into her face, he was ready to promise her anything. The realization scared him. “That depends.”
“Whatever happens today, you’ll let me keep watch tonight.”
“Deal.” He turned to the door, but she tugged him back.
“That isn’t a promise.”
“I’ll sleep when we’re done, Jo.”
Her face, a vision of hope a moment ago, seemed to fade into something akin to disappointment. She withdrew her hand and he felt a chill, though he had yet to open the door.
“Jo—”
“I understand, Thomas. Truly I do.” She looked away, then back. “Do you have the gun?”
“Yes. And it’s loaded.” He reached into his pocket. “Do you want the sedative?” He held it out, hoping the gesture would cheer her up, but her smile didn’t even get halfway across her mouth and nowhere near putting a spark in her eyes.
“Keep it. I doubt it would work on a rogue bear, which is all the danger we’re likely to run into before tonight.”
He hoped she was right.
Outside, the mountain peaks that had been hidden by heavy snow clouds yesterday were in full glory today. He could just imagine how well things were going up at the resort. “You’ll want sunglasses,” he suggested to Jo, but she was already putting them on.
The bright sunshine was deceptive, giving the impression of warmth when it was still quite cold.
He tromped through the snow, taking a relieved glee in feeling like a kid again. He grinned over his shoulder. “Your mom picked a good spot. This hill is just begging for a sled. Is there one around?”
“Please. Do boys ever really grow up?”
“It’s part of our charm.”
“We can call it charm if you like.”
“You disagree?” He watched her tread carefully through the path he’d made earlier when he’d come out to dig the bullet free.
“Not if we’re talking about you. You’re quite charming, Director.”
He chuckled, knowing her committee used less flattering terms when his name came up in discussion. “You’re just saying that because I’ve been doing the cooking.”
“A girl has to eat.” With her arms outstretched she shoved snow from the hood of the car, which landed in a heap at his feet.
Her grin was feminine and wily and his reaction was stronger than he’d expected. He wanted to kiss that expression right off her face. The feelings, the startling attraction, should have faded long ago.
He thought of the last time he’d seen her, across a glossy conference table. There hadn’t been a greater challenge to his self-control. Until last night.
“Are you trying to tell me you looked at this blank canvas and didn’t think of making snow angels?” He worked on clearing the rest of the roof while she cleared the headlights and then shuffled around to clear the taillights and exhaust pipe.
“Because that’s naturally what good little girls want to do in fresh snow?”
“You said as much once.” In Germany as they’d looked out past the village and up to the white-topped mountains, she’d shared more than she probably meant to. More than he should have remembered.
That mission seemed like a lifetime away and just yesterday all at the same time. It was a strange sensation and not at all comfortable. He should be discussing the business of those days, not the pleasure.
“Do you think it’s possible Whelan managed to get his hands on the real virus?”
He paused, knocking the snow from his gloves and dusting it off of his jeans. Thank goodness one of them still had the power of logical thought. “No. I’m sure the family always meant to double-cross the buyer.”
“And you.”
Thomas spread his hands. “Isely is not dealing bio-weapons anymore, and that was the purpose of the trip.”
“True.” She was shuffling and stamping her feet in an effort to clear a path behind the car. “You called wrapping up Whelan a bonus.”
Thomas smiled, thinking back. “For a quiet little town, it had a significant criminal element that week.”
“As does Glenstone once you and Whelan are in town. If you give credence to rumor.”
He laughed. “We ought to just build a snowman or a fort or something.”
“Thomas.”
“It would be a more efficient way to clear a path than what you’re trying to do.”
“You could come help me.”
He nodded. “Or I could make snow angels.”
“How about a whole choir of them right here?” She pointed to a spot near her that would help clear the path.
“Maybe.” He reached down and scooped up a handful of snow, testing how well it packed. With a perfect snowball, he tossed it up a few inches, gauging the weight.
Her ruby lips parted. “No.” She wagged a finger at him. “Don’t you dare.”
He let it fly, and tagged her shoulder as she struggled through the deep snow to get behind the shelter of the car.
“Thomas!”
“You didn’t want to make a snowman or a fort.”
He heard her grumbling about men being nothing but overgrown boys, but he knew she was stockpiling ammunition and developing a counterattack strategy.
He wasn’t wasting time either. He packed a few snowballs and cradled them in the crook of his arm as he waited to see what she would do.
The attack didn’t come from the back of the car as he expected, it came from above and landed far too close. He looked skyward, squinting against the brightness, and nearly got a face full of snow. Clever woman was lobbing them over the car like grenades.
There was nothing for it but to charge ahead. He rounded the car and began pelting her with snowballs, dodging as she fired back. Amid the shrieks, vows of vengeance and laughter, he wasn’t sure who had the most hits when she called for a truce a few minutes later.
“You’re unarmed?” She was hidden behind the wide branches of a Douglas fir.
“Yes.” And his jeans were cold and wet, clinging to his legs now that he’d stopped moving. “Let’s go inside and warm up.”
“Okay.” She stepped out from the shelter of the tree and he found himself the victim of an ambush. Three snowballs smacked into his chest accompanied by her crow of victory.
Unable to let it stand and lose gracefully, he charged forward. Spurred by another shriek, he lunged and tackled her into a snowbank.
“I won,” she declared.
“You’re sure?” He had her pinned under his body. “Seems I have the advantage.” Despite the layers of coats and clothing his body was remembering every hot, luscious curve of hers. Her cheeks were pink from the exertion and her lips rosy. He pushed her sunglasses up into her hair, needing to see her eyes.
The stark desire in those midnight depths fueled the needs surging to the surface. He kept his gaze locked with hers, praying she wouldn’t stop him as he lowered his mouth to her sweet lips.
He told himself one more taste would be enough to carry him through. Through what defied definition as he lost all reason at that first contact.
It was simultaneously new and achingly familiar. He wanted to take his time and rush headlong into the next sen
sation. Only with her had he felt so much passion and so little control.
“Johara,” he whispered reverently as he feathered kisses over her cheeks, jaw and finally her lips again. He couldn’t remember why he had forced himself to walk away from her and at the moment it didn’t matter. Couldn’t matter. Right now, he just wanted to make up for lost time.
She drew his head closer, her lips parting in an unmistakable invitation. The snow was surely steaming away by the heat they generated as her velvet tongue dueled with his.
The cold was irrelevant and time seemed to stop. He thought even the earth moved. That was a first.
Her hands pushed at his shoulders and he eased back reluctantly.
“Snowplow.”
“Huh?”
“Look.” Her kiss-swollen lips curved into a smile. “It’s the snowplow.” She gave him another nudge and he rolled back then helped her to her feet.
He considered brushing the snow from her shapely bottom, but putting his hands on her again wouldn’t be wise. It took more effort than it should have to shake off the passionate haze, and he let her take the lead as she approached the driver.
The plow was a heavy-duty pickup outfitted with a blade to push the snow to the side of the narrow road connecting the cabin to the rest of civilization.
Thomas wasn’t sure if he should be grateful. At the moment he felt cheated.
Chapter Fourteen
9:30 a.m.
Jason had awakened with the sun, out of habit more than design, though he had been eager enough to leave the lumpy bed. Sleep had been in short supply after skimming the incriminating files on the flash drive he’d found in DeRossi’s room.
As he’d dressed, he double-checked, then triple-checked the strength of the cell signal on his phone, relieved the networks were back up. He’d had just enough time to check out of the motel and hit up a drive-through for coffee. Then he could take the call from Lucas in the relative privacy of his car.
He made the call to the number on his cell display that matched the number in the message that had come back from the resort last night.
“Mr. Camp, this is Jason Grant.”
