ALIAS SMITH AND JONES

by Kylie Brant

  His displeasure sounded in his voice. "You need to get something to keep the sun out of your eyes. The last thing I need is you getting heatstroke."

  She raised that pointed little chin of hers and he knew instantly he'd taken the wrong tack with her. He was beginning to believe that the best way to get her to do something was to tell her to do the exact opposite.

  She disputed his words with a careless shrug. "I'll be all right. I'm used to the sun."

  He gave her a long look. True enough, her skin bore a light golden tan, but was hardly the color of the seasoned sun worshiper. Deliberately he let the subject drop. He made it a point to remain uninvolved. It was nothing to him if she keeled over from heatstroke. Except if Pappy had to fuss over her sickbed he wouldn't be available for his other duties. Not that Jones expected the man would mind. From what he'd noticed, his crew member was about as dazzled as the two men before him.

  "I'm going in to town to sightsee." Ana aimed a smile at the two agents. "Do you have any recommendations?"

  It was pathetic, Jones reflected, as the men fell over each other to be helpful, how the woman used those big guileless eyes to reduce the agents to babbling idiots. He slitted his gaze. He was beginning to believe there was a whole lot more to her than he'd first believed. No woman could be so full of contrasts. The way she had these two men eating out of her hand spoke of a woman comfortable in the knowledge of her own appeal. She'd been blatantly obvious in her machinations to get into his bed, but once he'd had her in his arms she'd seemed damned inexperienced. He hadn't missed her slight gasp when his tongue had gone in search of hers. Her nipples had been tight little knots stabbing into his chest, and no matter what she'd pretended later, she hadn't been able to hide her very real response to their kiss. Which somehow didn't make him feel any better about the involuntary response he'd had.

  The memory made his gut clench, and he scowled in her direction. "We're busy here," he said, interrupting what seemed to be becoming a cozy coffee klatch. "So if you're finished…"

  Although her eyes flashed, her voice was still warm as she thanked the men for their help. Her tone when she addressed him, however, was glacial. "I may dine while I'm out. Tell Pappy not to fix anything for me."

  She'd started to walk away when he said, "Make sure you get back here while it's still daylight." Although there was no way she could have avoided hearing him, she gave no indication that she had. Which was just as well, because the remark definitely hadn't sounded as detached as he'd meant it to. He switched his attention from her to the agents, who were watching her stroll away with avid interest. "Could we get done here, gentlemen?"

  One of the agents turned back to him with a broad smile. "I can understand your hurry to join your woman, sir. We will only be a few more minutes."

  Jones opened his mouth to correct the man, and then shut it again. Wasn't that exactly the impression he'd sought to give the government officials? A couple looking for romantic hideaways was apt to gamer little attention. And although the thought of pretending to be Ann Smith's lover wasn't the most comfortable to contemplate, if it served to lessen the suspicion that incoming ships were being subjected to, it was a necessary pretense.

  In less than fifteen minutes he'd dispensed with the formalities, and the agents went on their way. He went back onboard and took a quick shower before changing into khaki shorts and a T-shirt. Shoving his feet into a pair of sandals, he grabbed some sunglasses and headed off the ship.

  Joining the throngs of people on the street, he walked quickly, keeping an eye out for a familiar face. He'd been to the island often enough to have a few contacts here, and he wouldn't be returning to the ship tonight before he'd spoken to all of them. Something about the story of the missing tourist had sounded off to him, and he wanted to learn what the rumors on the street were. He was starting to get a real bad feeling about this whole thing.

  * * *

  "Jones." The tall thin man behind the counter of the diving shop nodded a friendly greeting. "Been a long time."

  Jones was content to wait until Hector, the owner of the place, finished with the group of tourists he was speaking to. The conversation he'd be having with the man was best accomplished in private. Several minutes passed as he examined the equipment displayed in the store, until the customers finally made an exit, their purchases in tow.

  "Hey, mon." Hector came out from around the counter and clapped a friendly hand on Jones's shoulder. "Where you been hiding, huh?"

  Grinning, Jones gave a shrug. "Heard you were busy keeping all the women on the island happy. Didn't figure you'd have time for an old friend."

  "It is a big job," Hector agreed, his dark eyes alight with amusement. "My ladies demand much of me." He patted his flat stomach. "That is how I keep trim." When Jones only laughed, he turned, motioned for him to follow. "Come. I will find us beers and you will tell me your adventures, yes?"

  Minutes later there was a Closed sign hanging in the window, and the two men were enjoying beers in back of the shop. The breeze from the ocean stirred the air, and Jones could see his ship in the distance, rocking gently against the pier. The sight reminded him of his reasons for visiting Laconos twice in the last couple weeks. The memory had him frowning. "Hear you had some excitement on the island recently."

  Hector's expression stilled, and he cast a quick glance around the area. With the exception of a matronly woman taking laundry off a line several properties away, there was no one in sight. That didn't prevent the man from lowering his voice. "There has been excitement on the island for many months now. No one is sure what the future holds for our country."

  Jones tipped the bottle to his lips and drank. "A government cutter stopped me an hour from shore. Wanted to know my purpose for visiting the island."

  Hector looked unsurprised by the news. "They seek a man, that much I know. For days now officials have come to all the shops, always asking questions, showing a picture. Wait." He rose, went through the back door of the shop and returned a few minutes later with a folded sheet of paper. Handing it to Jones, he sank down into his seat again.

  Jones straightened the paper and stared at a sketch that, despite its crudeness, was startling in its familiarity. It was the man he'd brought to the island on his last trip here. Expressionlessly he creased the paper again and gave it back to Hector. "What's he done?"

  The other man shrugged. "That we are not told. Just that he is wanted for questioning and that he is injured."

  "Is injured? Or might be injured?" The officials had made it sound that morning like they hadn't been sure.

  "The man was hurt. Stabbed in the thigh and lost much blood. I know this not because the government says so. But I keep my ears open and hear many things. Some say this man they seek, he fought with a high-ranking cabinet member and was injured in the fight. No one seems to know what they fought about."

  "Does anyone say where this man might be?"

  "No one has seen him. No one dares ask questions, for fear the soldiers come to question their loyalty." At Jones's sharp look, Hector went on grimly, "As I said, much has changed. No longer do we live our lives and let the royal family run the government. Now the government begins to run the people. There is unrest growing."

  Jones drank in silence, contemplating his friend's words. Before Owahano Bunei had shocked the country and the world with his actions, the island of Laconos had been historically conservative, steeped in tradition. It had been a major event fifteen years ago when they'd begun welcoming, even courting the tourism industry. Although friendly with the Western nations, the Laconos government had been traditionally neutral in all world conflicts, shunning any foreign influences that would threaten their customs and way of life. From what Hector was saying, the new government here was far more controlling of the citizens' lives than the last one had been.

  "Any rumors about why the man was on the island?" When Hector shook his head, Jones pressed on. "If you hear anything, can you get word to me? I'll be docked here for
another day."

  Hector looked uneasy, throwing a look over his shoulder. "It is not wise now to be seen with outsiders. Too many officials watch and accuse." When Jones's hand went to his wallet, the man's face went from uneasy to offended. "But I do not need money to help a friend. If there is something to tell, I will find a way to send a message."

  "I'm grateful." The two men's gazes met and held, before each raised their bottle in a silent salute. Friendship didn't always supersede fear. When it did, Jones knew, it was to be valued all the more.

  * * *

  Ana didn't have to pretend a fascination with her surroundings as she made her way through the busy marketplace. She had a feminine appreciation for the display of wares, and a competitive instinct for a good deal. Engaging the clerks in a conversation about their goods was an excellent way to lead into other topics.

  With ruthless efficiency she wended her way among the tables, stopping to ascertain the clerks' level of English before deciding to stop and spend time there. But while several of the vendors were well versed in her language, few of them had anything to share about the man the government was searching for.

  She thought even Sterling would have to admit that she was using the utmost discretion as she probed for information. After an hour or so, she grew even more comfortable with her task, masking her interest behind a guise of interested tourist. She stopped to admire a table of brightly colored scarves, catching the owner's eye as she held up a brilliant blue and pink one. "These are different. Are they made here on the island?"

  The female clerk bobbed her head. She had one of the scarves woven in an intricate braid in her hair, which was pinned on top of her head. "We dye scarves, my daughters and me. You like? Pretty lady can use many scarves. One to wear ever day."

  The woman's English was understandable enough to keep Ana in place. "I like them very much. I just can't decide which ones to get." As she slowly looked through the piles of scarves, she drew the woman out about her three daughters and the upcoming grandchild one was expecting. By the time Ana had selected three scarves, they were discussing the names being considered for the anticipated newborn.

  Ana haggled over the price with the woman, settling on one before reaching into her purse. "I'd like to do more sight-seeing this evening, but I'm a little worried about this man everyone is searching for." She handed over the money and the woman busied herself with wrapping the scarves. 'Do you think it's safe for me to be downtown at night while this guy's on the loose?"

  Ana thought it was interesting that the woman appeared to know exactly what she was talking about. And equally intriguing was the quick look she threw around her before lowering her voice to answer. "As I tell my husband, the man the government seeks will not be found. Some say he is already dead from loss of blood. Others say he was not human at all, but a dieu païen, a pagan god who the government has angered. Either way, he will not be seen again."

  Ana's hand had become alarmingly unsteady as she held it out to collect her change from the woman. It was as if the woman had plucked her darkest fears about Sam's situation and put voice to them. It took conscious effort to put her money away and collect her purchases, schooling her expression to a polite one. "So it would be safe to come down here at night?"

  "Very safe, miss. The military is everywhere these days. And there is much show of security since some of our new government officials frequently enjoy the nightlife." She leaned even closer, more than a tinge of disapproval in her voice. "It is to be hoped that they work as hard for our people by day."

  Hiding her curiosity at the woman's words, Ana prepared to leave. "My friends and I would like to find a place with music and dancing. Where should we go?"

  Other tourists were stopping nearby, and the vendor, with an eye on her trade, began drifting away. "There are only two places like that in the city, Le Dauphin and Laval's. Both are down the street from here." The woman beamed a welcoming smile at the newcomers, and Ana walked away, her mind swirling.

  She wondered if the woman's opinion mirrored that of other islanders. If so, it seemed as though the people were becoming dissatisfied under the new rule.

  It was more comfortable to dwell on what the woman had revealed about the government than on her suppositions about Sam. Ana had no doubt that her brother would relish the rumor about him being a god, but she didn't even like to consider the woman's other guess.

  Dread twisted with worry in a greasy tangle in her stomach. As much as she hated to contemplate it, it was clear that Sam had been injured in some way during his mission. But he'd managed to escape from Laconos's military. That fact didn't do much to lessen the sick concern she was feeling, but it offered a thread of hope. The government officials obviously thought he was well enough to make his way off the island, so his wounds couldn't be as serious as the woman had indicated.

  Ana continued her way down the marketplace, hoping for further information. Rumors abounded about the mysterious man the government sought, but no one seemed to have any facts about him. As the hours passed into early evening, she decided that there was nothing more to be learned there and decided to turn back for the ship.

  Ana strolled with seeming aimlessness until she was nearing the shoreline. When she found a collection of large boulders on the beach, she ducked behind them, pulled out the cell phone from her purse and punched in Sterling's number. She hoped the man agreed that the Laconos government's continued search for Sam meant good news for her brother's well-being.

  But moments later, after the number had rung incessantly, she was forced to cut off the call. Sterling hadn't answered.

  Trepidation swirled inside her. This had never happened before. He'd always been there in the past, a disembodied voice on the other end of the line, one she had imagined all sorts of identities for.

  The sun was sinking lower over the horizon of the ocean, turning the water into ripples of rainbow. But Ana was unable to appreciate the beauty of the scene as she grappled with this newest development. Not only had Sam disappeared, but the man who'd assigned her brother to this mission couldn't be located either. For the first time since she left the States, she felt totally alone.

  * * *

  Chapter 5

  «^»

  "Very pretty, miss. Beautiful like the moon on the ocean."

  At the sound of Pappy's unusual babbling, Jones frowned and headed in the direction of the man's voice. As he turned the corner of the deck, he stopped short as he watched Ann twirl around before Pappy's admiring gaze.

  "You like it?"

  Unfortunately, Jones did. Very much. He doubted there was a man alive whose hormones wouldn't stand up and salute at the picture she made. She'd done something to her hair so that it fluffed around her face, inviting a man's fingers. The figure-hugging strapless black dress she wore followed her curves faithfully before ending well above midthigh. Made of some sort of stretchy material, it looked as if it could be peeled down her body if one took the notion.

  He scowled. It looked like, he thought grimly, she was inviting a man to do just that. "Where are you going in that getup?"

  At his voice she turned, and he had the renegade thought that a dress like that wouldn't allow for her wearing much beneath it. Swallowing hard, he shoved the thought away.

  "Getup? What a quaint phrase. Back home we call this a dress." She reached into her oversize black purse and withdrew a compact, opening it to check her lipstick in the mirror.

  He folded his arms across his chest. "This isn't a cruise ship. We don't dress for dinner on the Nefarious."

  She slipped the compact back into her purse and looked him up and down. "Really? And here I thought the pains you'd been taking with your appearance were for my benefit."

  Rubbing at a streak of grease across his chest, he scowled at her. After returning to the ship, he'd done a little work on the engine and was exceedingly aware that he hadn't yet cleaned up. "I'm just saying, you're dressed a little fancy for a quiet meal onboard. It isn't necessary."
And it wouldn't change anything. Though she'd succeeded in catching his eye, and his attention, more than once in the past several hours, hormones had never been allowed to interfere with logic. She was wasting her time.

  "You and Pappy can have your quiet meal together. I have other plans."

  Her words succeeded in dragging his attention from her slender thighs. "Other plans?"

  "I'm going downtown for a while. I understand that there's quite an active nightlife and thought I'd check it out."

  "I don't think so."

  The words were out of his mouth before he'd even considered them. Where the hell had they come from? The woman's actions were no concern of his. But even as he formed the thought, it sounded like a lie. He shifted uncomfortably. As his client, he owed her a certain protection, that was all. Especially since her own judgment didn't seem to be the greatest. Although the explanation didn't totally satisfy, it was the only one he'd admit to.

  He was beginning to know her well enough to expect the flare of emotion in her eyes at his statement. But he was unprepared for the tiny smile she gave him. "It's all right. I already checked, and there are cabs available to travel back and forth to the ship. I'm not completely unaware of safety precautions."

  Jones figured if the woman had one ounce of sense about her safety, she'd never have worn that dress. But rather than pointing out the obvious, he reached for a discretion he rarely used, to say, "If you want to go downtown, I'll take you."

  He didn't know which of them was more shocked by his words. He definitely didn't want to spend any more time than necessary with the woman, especially in a setting that she could construe as a date. The last thing he needed was to provide her with encouragement and find her in his bed again. The thought had his loins tightening.