The instant he felt her full soft lips against his he felt branded by a hot iron and his blood sizzled in his veins. All he could hear was the hammer of his pulse as he parted her lips with his tongue and explored, running the tip along her teeth and winding it around her tongue. He fought to breathe to keep up with his lungs’ need to suck in air and pump his heart. He pulled her closer with one arm and tangled his other hand through her hair—such silky hair.
The whoosh of the elevator doors caused her to jump. He opened his eyes, but kept her plastered to him. She looked horrified at the small group of officers standing there to get in. She made a move to get out, but he held her. He glanced at the floor number on the digital readout.
“Not yet,” he whispered to her. She squeezed her eyes shut and the charming pink that colored her skin turned a deeper shade. He took mercy on her when one of the men cleared his throat in a mock laugh, and turned her sideways, sheltering her from view. He glared a warning at the young man lest he make any rude remarks. The man raised his brows and turned away, wisely.
He held onto her as he guided her to the director’s office, but before they got there she broke free and straightened herself. She walked through the door first.
“David, is there any way for me to get out of this nightmare?” She stopped in front of David’s desk with her usual hands-on-hip stance. She looked like a five-foot redheaded vavoom version of Patton.
David swung his chair around to peer at Pixie over his glasses. The genuine smile that lit David’s face told Chauncey how close their friendship was. Chauncey nodded and his boss nodded back. He held all the welling of emotion at bay, as was expected.
“Are the plans all set then?” David asked him. This inattention caused Pixie to blow out one of her exaggerated sighs.
“As set as they’re likely to get. Let’s say I’m prepared to act in any number of situations that may present themselves.”
“I see.” David gave Pixie a quick glance, then returned his attention and asked in a serious voice, “Any idea on the leak?”
“Too many possibilities. None of them good.”
“It could be someone on this end,” Pixie said impatiently, then stood and paced.
David raised his brows at her. “She could be right, you know.”
“Yes. Very disconcerting, isn’t it?”
“Which? That she’s right or that the leak is here?” David quirked a wry smile.
He had to smile at that. Pixie stopped short.
“Ha, ha. Since I’m in this up to my eyeballs with no way out, the least you can do is have a little respect.”
“Of course, you’re right,” David said with warmth.
Chauncey wrestled with telling David of his plan. There wasn’t another more trustworthy man alive. But he might share it with others he felt were trustworthy and neither of them could afford that. He’d hold it all back and then dish out bits of information to different avenues to see where it ended. If Azzam continued the way he’d been going, it wouldn’t take long for the wrong information to get back to him. He’d start with a trip in the wrong direction to eliminate everyone in David’s office from suspicion.
“I’m sorry you won’t get to see your parents before you leave, Sophia,” David said.
Sophia almost looked like she would cry. Chauncey felt alarm run through him. But before he could do anything about it—not that he knew what to do about it anyway—his cell phone rang. It was Sam. He rose and walked out the door to the hallway without looking at either of them and without an explanation.
“Make it brief. Tell me everything,” he said into the phone as he leaned against the wall in the hall, plastering a smile on his face.
“Joe Dellario is solid as they come. Family, duty, loyalty. Military background. Personally recruited by the governor to work with him. Officially as a bodyguard, but the skinny is he does more—couldn’t get a handle on what.”
“Sounds like the perfect man. Couldn’t have asked for better specs myself.” Then, before he could stop himself, he had to ask. “Married? Girlfriend?”
“Nada. Stream of lovelies in and out. The guy’s love life has a revolving door—similar to someone else I know. You two were made to be partners.”
“Great.” He was sure he’d masked his annoyance.
“Where’s your head at? Woman trouble, my man?”
“If you consider the fact that Azzam is now after an innocent decorator because he thinks she’s my woman, then yes. I definitely have woman trouble,” Chauncey bit out. His mind spun.
There was a pause on the other end of the line. Then Sam spoke before Chauncey ended the call. “Not good. You know Azzam’s M.O. I’ll keep an ear to the ground from my end. Can I reach you again at this number?”
“No. I’ll be in touch.”
“You’re not going underground?” He heard the concern in Sam’s voice. He ended the call, but knew his buddy-in-combat had legitimate reason for concern. He put the phone back in his pocket and tried to think up an excuse for the call. Only one came to mind, although they could eventually figure out it was a lie. He sauntered back into David’s office and remained standing.
David and Pixie, who’d been talking about pets, looked at him with questioning eyes, each expecting an explanation for their own reasons.
“My father. He won’t be calling again.”
David nodded. “Does he have any ideas about the leak?”
Chauncey shook his head, wishing he could call the man and ask. He noted the suspicious squint in Pixie’s eyes, but she said nothing. She stood and picked up her silly bright-colored bag.
“Well, we’re off to get disguised and papered up with false credentials now.” She saluted David and he chuckled. Then he flashed Chauncey a look that warned him of his duty to take care of the woman.
“I’ll be in touch.”
He ushered Pixie out the door as she purposely shrugged him off and walked faster to get ahead of him, rushing toward the elevator. Once inside she backed away from him and faced him with her hands on her hips. She had to tilt her chin at such an angle to look up at him in the close quarters that her defiant attitude lost its effect. He held his smile.
“Don’t think just because of one kiss that you can claim me somehow and go around thinking we really are a couple—even if we have to play a couple on this road trip of ours.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He turned away and looked up at the floor lights flashing by so that he wouldn’t show her his amusement. Whatever else she was, she was one passionate woman. That would be a good thing if she were his woman, but under the circumstances he would have to factor it in as a potential liability.
The elevator landed and they got out. Joe waited on the street out front for them and they got in the car.
“When we get to the governor’s mansion, pull into the garage,” he said without preamble. Joe nodded.
“Do I need to hide in the trunk or anything?” Sitting next to Chauncey, Pixie turned to him with that bored ‘you can’t be for real’ look she had to cover her fear and anxiety. He didn’t blame her.
“We’ll save that for later. I need to get rid of my cell phone—in privacy.”
“So just throw it out the window.”
“I’m not chancing any one being able to find it.”
“That’s right. I’d forgotten. The fate of the free world depends on it.” She turned to the window and moved away from him.
He heard Joe snort a laugh from the front seat. She didn’t realize how damn adorable she was sometimes when she was trying so hard to be prickly.
“Mock me all you want. But the minute Azzam gets you in his clutches, who will you be calling for then?”
She darted him a glance, brows raised, and he showed her his gleaming smile.
“What’s wrong, Pixie?”
She swatted his arm.
When they pulled into the garage she jumped from the car before he did.
“Don’t go inside yet.” He used his comm
anding voice and it worked for once. She leaned on the front fender with her arms crossed over her chest.
“Joe, can you find me a tire iron in here?” he said as he looked around the four-bay garage displaying all kinds of tools. “Or a hammer would do.”
Joe walked to the opposite wall and popped a hammer from its peg, then handed it to him.
“All yours.” He smiled and stepped back.
Chauncey moved to a vacant space on the cement floor, slipped the phone from his pocket and dropped it. He noticed from the corner of his eye that Pixie had come around to where she could watch. He dropped to his knee and raised the hammer.
“What the heck are you doing?”
“I told you I needed to get rid of the phone.” He lowered the hammer with full force and felt the satisfying crunch as it came down dead center. He continued to pound.
“Don’t you think you’re done now?”
“I’m being cautious.”
“You’re enjoying it.”
“There’s that too.” He looked up at her with a grin then at Joe. “Got an empty can or a bag or something to put this in?”
Joe turned and came back with a crumpled brown paper bag. He scraped the pile of debris into it, being careful to make sure there were no intact pieces left. Then he stood. Joe pointed him toward a dumpster near the front of the garage and Chauncey stood, reluctant.
“Is there anywhere else less obvious?”
“Give it to me. I’ll stash it in the trunk and dispose of it somewhere next time I go out.” Joe reached out his hand.
Chauncey took a deep breath. This is where he took his leap of faith to trust Joe, after which there was no turning back. He looked the man in the eye. Joe returned a steady stare and gave him a slight nod of his head. He understood about the leak. Chauncey extended his arm and handed him the bag with the phone parts.
“Are we ready now? Or do you have any more cute rituals to carry out?” Pixie got their attention. Both men turned to her and he looked her up and down.
The spitfire made an enticing picture. He doubted that she meant to.
They all stood. Joe smiled at her but made no move to leave just yet. He probably wanted an explanation. Chauncey liked the man’s subtlety.
“Not just yet, sweet puff,” he said and watched her jaw drop. Then he turned to Joe, and before Pixie could assemble a new tirade of sarcasm, he said to his other trusty sidekick, “We need to talk.”
Joe nodded his head in the direction of the rear garage where he saw a desk and a chairs. Chauncey took the lead and swept his arm around her as he passed by, taking her with them. She was in it up to her eyeballs, after all, as she so delicately put it. Pixie sat in the upholstered desk chair. Joe sat on a stool and Chauncey leaned against the desk with one hip hitched on top. Once again, Pixie was at a height disadvantage even while sitting as he and Joe towered above her. He would have to talk above her head too, but it couldn’t be helped.
“We’re not going to Canada, but no one else is to know.”
“How do you know you can trust me? I could be the leak,” Joe said.
He smiled and shook his head. Joe nodded. He didn’t need to be told he’d been checked out. He knew enough not to question how.
“No, but I intend to find out who it is.”
“A sting?”
Chauncey nodded. “Here’s what I’m going to do. I’ll call my London chief on his cell—don’t want to be too obvious by calling him at HQ—and tell him we’re landing at Heathrow in two days. In the meantime we’ll need you to help us make arrangements to land tomorrow.”
Joe blew out a whistle. “You don’t ask for much, do you?”
“What happened to the trip to Martha’s Vineyard?” Pixie’s voice was wary.
“We’ll be there soon. We’ll start out heading north first, as expected.” He eyed her. Maybe he ought to be more worried about her spilling the beans than Joe. He’d have to make sure he didn’t let her out of his sight. He looked back to Joe, who’d assumed a thinking posture.
“Can you do it? Can you arrange to fly us from Martha’s Vineyard to London to arrive tomorrow—I don’t care how late?”
“Probably connect you through Bradley Field in Connecticut. Be too chancy coming back through Logan in Boston. Even with disguises and fake IDs.”
“Right. I’ll take care of the disguises if you’ll oblige us on the fake IDs. We’ll have to use the same disguises. Different names.”
He nodded. “I know a guy.”
“Not the same people David’s going through, I hope?”
“Nah. He’s going through official Department of Homeland Security channels. I have an unofficial channel.”
“You won’t get into trouble with your boss?”
“Nah. My boss is the one who introduced me. We’re all on the same team.” Joe winked.
Pixie stood abruptly. “All right. That did it. That’s one clandestine plan too many for me. I’m going in to get some food.” She eyed them as if they might stop her.
“Sure. Everyone’s entitled to a last meal.” He couldn’t resist. She clenched her fists but kept them at her sides, then pivoted and stomped off like he hadn’t seen since watching old forties black-and-white movies as a child. He chuckled. Joe stood and they followed.
“You’ll have your hands full, looks like.” He nodded in Pixie’s direction as she walked through the garage door into the hall that led to the kitchen.
“Looks like.” He paused because something was bothering him and he had to ask. “Why did you agree to help so easily? You’re not playing me?” He used a warning note in case.
“I knew the police woman who was killed. I know David Young and he speaks highly of you. If you’re the best shot to get the bastard—and keep him from mauling another lovely young woman—then I’m with you. Besides, I know what it’s like to have a traitor on the team. You could use some help.”
Chauncey nodded. There was more to this guy than Sam had found out. Hopefully it wasn’t anything that could compromise him. But if his instincts were anything to go by, Joe would do right by him.
Later in her room, she was supposed to be packing. Chauncey knocked on the door. She answered and almost shut the door again immediately when she saw him standing there with scissors and a box of hair dye and a bag of some suspicious-looking things.
“I’ll make you unrecognizable,” he said as he stuck his foot in the door and pushed past her. He pulled a chair out to the middle of the room and stared her into it.
“Not that I’m a beauty queen, but I’m happy with the way I look right now.”
“So is our would-be assassin. He’d be happy to find you. Let’s not make it easy for him, shall we?”
She sat and closed her eyes, as much against impending tears as anything else. “As if a haircut and whatever else you have in that bag will fool him. He’s obviously a professional.” She wondered if this really was an exercise in futility.
“Nonsense. It’s tough to recognize people from a distance, especially if you’re sitting. Your stature will be your biggest giveaway.” He spoke while he snipped.
At least he had gentle hands, she’d give him that much. And he smelled good. She inhaled deeply as he stood against the back of her chair within a breath of her head. She was afraid to ask where he’d learned to cut hair because he probably had no idea what he was doing and she’d have to wear a hat. Within ten minutes he announced he was done and her precious bob was gone.
“Aren’t you going to look in the mirror?”
“No. In fact, I’m going to the dresser in hopes of finding a hat, which I’ll put on my head and leave there for the next six weeks till my hair grows back and I can get to a salon again.” She stalked across the room. Unfortunately there was a mirror attached to the dresser right in front of her and no matter how hard she tried to keep her head down, she saw her reflection, tempting her to examine closely. She finally yanked a hat out of the drawer and looked up, ready to plaster it on her head, whe
n she stopped mid-motion staring at the reflection of a spike-headed goth creature.
She spun around. “What the heck did you do?”
“It’s our disguise. Hair dye is next. Yours is black. Mine is bleached blond. We don’t have a lot of time. Forget the hat for now.”
She did what she was told. There was something in his eyes that made her stop pretending to whine.
She met with David, the governor, Grace and Joe in the governor’s office before departing. They were given driver’s licenses using freshly minted pictures in their new styles and passports with the same. She’d never have believed it could all be done so quickly, but it had been. One minute she was a perky redhead, the next a dark spiky goth girl. She fingered the nose stud. It bothered her even as a paste on. She’d refused all piercings. There were limits. It’s not like she was in a Hollywood thriller movie and they were paying her millions. If only. The image of her Italian movie star flashed through her head. She sighed.
“You’ll be okay. I can feel it. You’re in good hands,” Grace said as she hugged her tight. Grace released her when David put a hand on her shoulder and she stepped back with a melty smile. Sophia looked away from Grace to prevent herself from bawling on the spot.
The door opened behind her and Grace winked at Chauncey over her shoulder. Sophia turned and felt her heart plummet and her pulse spike and her knees start bending without her permission. He stood in the doorway with spiky bleached blond hair, vivid blue eyes, and enough metal on his face to panic a magnet. She closed her mouth, and recovered her cool, seeing no hint of a smile on his face. No hint of anything. But he had to be out of sorts in his getup. He looked like he came in from the surf in Australia and would answer to a conch shell blast in a flash. He barely acknowledged her presence and offered a very small nod in the direction of David and the governor.
“Let’s go.” He turned to Joe, who led them out the door into the garage. She fell in behind Joe and felt Chauncey’s large presence behind her. It didn’t matter what getup he wore. He couldn’t hide the power he exuded. It must come from inside somewhere and he wasn’t bothering to hide it. Goosebumps rose on her skin as if she were being followed by a block of ice. Neither David nor the governor followed them and she wondered how Chauncey had managed this because she was sure he’d planned it. She felt like he had planned out every single move of her life from now until doomsday—which was hopefully later than sooner. He should start calling her Pawnie instead of Pixie.
The Scotland Yard Exchange Series Page 79
