by Cindy Dees
“Good point. Never mind.” He sipped his coffee while he considered her. This was a first. He’d never been with a woman who was a killer. He probably should run screaming from her. But damned if she didn’t fascinate him.
“Why do you do what you do?” he asked curiously.
She answered without hesitation, “Because I get satisfaction from knowing I’m making a real difference.”
“You like your work, then?”
“I love it.”
He nodded in understanding. He was passionate about his work, too, managing the El Aran financial empire. He loved the thrill of billion-dollar bets, outsmarting the next analyst, beating the odds. “How long do you plan to do this job?”
She pushed scrambled eggs around her plate thoughtfully. “As long as they’ll have me or until I die.”
That startled him. “Is mortality high in your line of work?”
“We’ve had a few close calls, but my team hasn’t lost anyone.” She added reluctantly, “Yet.”
He nodded in commiseration. “In my world, deaths are inevitable, too.”
Her lips twitched. “Banking is dangerous stuff, huh?”
“No. Being a jet-setting wild child is dangerous.”
She commented under her breath, “You don’t seem like much of a child to me.”
He reached over to place his hand over hers. “Thanks. I generally prefer grown-up toys.” He felt the shiver that passed through her. Such a responsive woman. “How long do you think this fishing expedition to draw out the bad guys will take?”
She shrugged. “It will depend on the terrorists and how fast they move in response to seeing you alive. A few days. Maybe a week.”
One week with her. That wasn’t long. Was it long enough to know if she was The One? Long enough to make a life-changing decision about the two of them? How in the hell was he supposed to figure that out in one lousy week?
“When will you know what our destination is?” he asked.
“I knew that last night. I just wanted you to get some decent rest before I made you all tense again.”
That sent his eyebrows upward. A woman who could keep a secret? The surprises just kept on coming. “So, where are we going?”
“The French Riviera.”
“You are aware that paparazzi crawl all over the Gold Coast, right? Because of my…notoriety…we won’t be able to breathe without them on top of us.”
“I believe that’s the idea,” Casey replied. “But never fear, your men and I will keep you safe—”
“You expect to be with me in a security capacity?” he interrupted.
“Yes.”
“No, no. That won’t do at all,” he declared.
She stared at him. “Excuse me?”
“I don’t need you as my bodyguard. I need you as my girlfriend.”
“Come again?” she blurted.
“You heard me. If you’re going to be with me, you have to be my girlfriend.”
“You have a reputation for never doing relationships. It’ll make the terrorists suspicious.”
He shrugged. “I doubt they’ve studied my social habits that closely. And besides, think of the rumors it’ll start. The press will go crazy if they think the most eligible bachelor in Europe is about to be landed.”
That was definitely dismay on Casey’s face.
He frowned. “You’re the one who wanted a real relationship. Why the cold feet going public with it?”
She mumbled absently, “I have to make a call.”
He watched, bemused, as she pulled out her cell phone.
“Vanessa. He wants to drag me around with him in front of the press as his girlfriend. They’re going to want to know who I am. They’ll dig—”
Ah. She was worried about her privacy. He snorted. She had no idea the invasion of it she was about to endure. He was loathe to warn her, though, lest she think better of being involved with him at all.
Casey said tightly into her phone, “You’ll send me the dossier when it’s built?” She hung up the phone after a murmured goodbye.
“What was that all about?” he asked.
“I can’t exactly have the press digging into my life.”
“Why? Are you an ax murderer?”
“No. After this mission I need to be able to disappear again and not be some sort of celebrity.”
The idea of her disappearing from his life sent faint waves of nausea rolling through him. He didn’t want to lose her. At least not like that, with no trace, as if she’d never been here. A week. He had one week to change their future.
Chapter 11
C asey grabbed onto the railing at her back as the big helicopter established a hover overhead. The French Puma helicopter was too big to land on the yacht’s helipad, but they needed the big bird’s extended range and lifting capability to get them to their destination.
“Are you sure this is going to work?” Hake shouted in her ear.
She grinned over at him. “I’ve done this a hundred times. Just remember what I said and do what I showed you.”
“I know, I know. Keep my weight close to the rope and don’t let go.”
“When you get to the door, let the guy in the ’copter do all the work and maneuver you inside. Your job is to make like a sack of potatoes for him.”
Hake nodded as a big, metal seat lowered toward them on a steel cable. His security chief, Tomas, rode up first. The seat came down again. “Your turn!” Casey shouted.
Hake threw her a devil-may-care smile that made her knees wobble and climbed onto the seat with effortless grace and power. She gave a thumbs up to the PJ hanging out the helicopter door on a harness, and in a rush of wind and salt spray, Hake was away.
It felt uncomfortable not being at his side, as if an umbilical cord between them was being stretched too far. The seat slithered back down toward her too fast. She jumped out of the way and steadied the heavy seat without bothering to scowl up at the PJ overhead. Men always tried to mess with the Medusas the first time they worked with the female Special Forces soldiers.
She climbed on the seat efficiently and gave a thumbs-up. As she’d expected, the PJ ran the hoist full-speed, yanking her into the air alarmingly fast. When she jerked to a stop beside the door, she waved off the PJ’s hand, grabbed the hoist arm overhead and swung her feet up and out, flinging herself neatly into the helicopter’s cargo bay and landing in a crouch.
She glanced over her shoulder at the gaping PJ and casually called him a less-than-polite name in flawless French. His sagging jaw turned into a grudging grin.
Tomas’s men came up the hoist, followed by their gear. The helicopter’s nose dipped and they sped away from the Angelique, leaving the vessel’s sleek silhouette behind in the dark. The yacht would sail up the coast of Ireland, carrying its load of GPS tracking devices, and hopefully the suspicions of the terrorists, with it.
The working theory was the bigger the shock when the terrorists realized Hake was not only alive but flaunting that fact, the better the odds of infuriating them into attacking. Hence, the secret evacuation from the Angelique.
Hake was grinning and loving the ride strapped in the back of the big helicopter. As for her, she figured it was some sort of Pavlovian reflex to sleep in choppers because she was either heading into a tough mission or coming home exhausted from one. Her eyes drifted closed and she fell asleep in a matter of moments.
A kick on her foot jerked her back to consciousness some time later. The ocean had been replaced by dark farmland below the helicopter. And they were at low altitude and slowing down. They must be at Calais. She couldn’t see the train station from this side of the bird, but it would be out there.
Sure enough, a few seconds later the helicopter’s forward speed slowed to zero and a black hole of a landing pad came into sight below. The bird thudded to the ground and the scream of the engines cut off. Casey jumped out first and turned to steady Hake, but he didn’t need the help. The man was as agile as a cat. He grinned at he
r as they jogged out from under the rotor blades and rounded the tail of the helicopter.
A long, sleek shape waited on the train tracks in front of them. The TGV, Train à Grande Vitesse. Also known as the French bullet train.
“We’re headed for the last car,” she murmured. “The one with all the window shades pulled and the lights off.”
“Sounds romantic,” Hake murmured. When she rolled her eyes, he amended. “You have to admit, it’s very sexy and super-spyish to have a car on the TGV all to ourselves to sneak aboard and ride in secret.”
She smiled widely at him. “What can I say? I have the world’s best job.”
Tomas and his men had formed a tight phalanx around her and Hake. As a group they ran to the train and piled aboard fast and quiet. Within thirty seconds of entering the train car, Casey thought she felt it ease into motion. She lifted the edge of a shade enough to verify that they were moving. Okay, that was cool. The TGV had been waiting just for them.
“How long will it take us to get to Nice?” Hake asked.
“Seven hours,” Casey replied. “There’s a private sleeping compartment at the back of the car. You might want to get some rest. It’ll be morning when we get to Nice and Vanessa scheduled a press conference for you at the hotel shortly after we arrive.”
“Efficient, isn’t she?” Hake grumbled.
Casey smiled. “That’s us. We waste no time getting to the point.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he drawled. “You took your time last night…to good effect, I might add.”
And in a single sentence, the air between them was thick and charged with sexual vibes that hung as heavy as jungle vines. His gaze smoldered. “Come with me?” he murmured. She glanced doubtfully at Tomas and his men and Hake added, “They may as well get used to seeing you be my girlfriend now. We’ll be going public soon enough.” His girlfriend. The word rattled through her, unfamiliar and thrilling, and hard to fathom.
“Please? I sleep better with a woman in my arms.”
She laughed. “Now that’s a great pickup line.”
“But it’s true.”
“Oh, I believe you. That’s what makes it such a great line.”
As darkness enclosed them in the tiny compartment, Hake seemed to fill the entire space. It was odd and thrilling feeling so small and relatively weak around anyone. He stripped her clothes off by feel and she returned the favor, loving the texture of his body beneath her hands.
The bed was already folded down, and he laid her upon it gently. He stretched out beside her, and she did, indeed, cuddle up to him, more comfortable than anyone had a right to be. His chest rose and fell slowly beneath her ear and she reveled in being with him. They might not have forever, or even have long, but they had now. And now was pretty nice.
The train was nearly as smooth and powerful as Hake’s lovemaking as the miles flew past. Eventually, they collapsed in each other’s arms, sated and exhausted, and slept. When Hake finally shifted beneath her as dawn peeked around the window shades, she smiled up at him sleepily and was warmed to her toes by the easy smile he gave her back.
Tomas startled her by calling from the other side of the door, “We’ll be arriving in approximately ten minutes, sir. Miss Casey’s colleague, Vanessa, has confirmed that your hotel suite is ready. A limousine is waiting for us at the train station and French Special Forces will be driving the vehicle. They are also performing a security sweep of your accommodations as we speak.”
“Thank you,” Hake called back.
“My people didn’t arrange for the limo or the security sweep,” Casey muttered, alarmed.
Hake kissed the end of her nose lightly. “The El Aran name is not without a certain influence. I suspect my father made calls to a few friends in the French government.”
Sometimes she forgot the guy was practically Bhoukari royalty. “Right. Well, I’d better freshen up a bit if I’m to look even vaguely worthy to be seen on your arm.”
He laughed as she climbed out of the narrow bed. “No one will ever mistake you for arm fluff, my dear.”
“Drat. I guess I’ll have to try harder, then.”
He grinned. “I can’t wait to see this.”
She made a face at him as she reached for her makeup bag. She emerged from the tiny private bathroom just as the train was pulling into the station.
It was a strange sensation letting Tomas and his men sweep her along in their midst as if she was the one being protected. They were tall enough that she couldn’t see a darned thing past them, which made her jumpy. A black limousine loomed in front of them and someone put a hand on her head to guide her inside.
Familiar, strong arms gathered her close in the dark interior. “There’s my girl,” Hake murmured.
She snuggled close to him with a sigh of pleasure. The ride to the hotel, a posh beachside resort, was all too short. They pulled into an underground loading dock and took a back elevator up to their penthouse suite, completely out of sight of the public. The message light was blinking on the phone in the living room when they arrived. Hake took the message and then passed the receiver to her. “It’s for you.”
Casey sat down beside him to listen to the message from Vanessa Blake, who ran through their schedule for the day—the press conference and then various television interviews with major news networks for most of the afternoon to talk to Hake about his close call with death. Vanessa ended with, “I’ll leave tonight’s itinerary to Hake to arrange. Far be it from me to tell the master how to play wildly and visibly. Oh, and Hornet arranged a little gift for you to help with the mission.”
She glanced over at Hake. “Did you hear the bit about tonight?”
He grinned. “Aye, aye, captain. Wild and visible it is. Who’s Hornet, by the way?”
“Roxi. She’s the fashion stylist who helped me develop the Cassandra look.”
“The woman is a goddess. Although she had an exquisite canvas to paint upon.”
Casey smiled skeptically. “Careful or you’ll give me a fat head.”
“All women deserve to be spoiled a little. Good romance is in the details.”
And apparently he had every last detail down to a fine science. One of Tomas’s men came in to announce that the hotel laundry was steaming Hake’s suit for the press conference. It would be back in ten minutes, and breakfast was on its way up.
Wow. They’d only been here a grand total of about two minutes. She asked Hake curiously, “Do all hotels race around trying to anticipate your every whim like this?”
He glanced up from the London Times the guard had handed him. “I suppose they do. I don’t pay much attention to it.”
She snorted. Why should he, when everything ran like a well-oiled machine around him, and his smallest need was met before he even knew he had it?
He rose to his feet and offered a hand down to her. “Breakfast, my dear?”
He read the financial sections of a half-dozen newspapers over the meal while she glanced through the world news. He ran once through the prepared statement H.O.T. Watch had worked up for him and faxed to the hotel.
“Do you need me to fire some practice questions at you to get you ready for the media?” Casey offered.
Hake grinned. “No, thanks. I deal with the worst elements of the press on a daily basis. Nothing these guys can throw at me will trip me up.”
She wished she was that confident. After breakfast she went into her bedroom to check out Roxi’s gift. She didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, other than an incredibly elegant room that she could never dream of affording on her own. She peeked in the bathroom—nothing. And then she opened the closet. The row of garment bags sent a thrill of delight down her spine. Oh, Lord. She was turning into a girly girl by the second.
Each bag had an index card pinned to it with instructions on when to wear it, how to accessorize the outfit and even instructions for what lingerie each required. She grinned. Roxi knew her too well.
She found a bag labeled �
��Press Conference.” It held a gray, pin-striped suit that was nice, but looked about four sizes too small for her. Frowning, she took it into the bathroom and tried it on. The jacket turned out to be a cute, cropped cut and the skirt—what there was of it—was a mini that, along with the four-inch stilettos in the bag, made her legs look a mile long. Casey twisted her hair up into a loose French knot and secured it with the crystal-encrusted barrette that had been provided for the purpose. There were even hose and hoop earrings in the bag. The diagram of how to apply her makeup and what shades to wear in front of television cameras might have been insulting if she didn’t know what a perfectionist Roxi was. Laughing, Casey pulled out her cell phone and dialed her teammate.
Roxi didn’t bother to say hello but burst out, “Do you love it?”
“How could I not? Thanks, Rox. How did you arrange all this?”
“The hotel’s concierge hooked me up with a local personal shopper. She took pictures of clothes in the stores and sent them to me, and I told her what to buy. Did she leave you instructions for everything? I told her you were totally fashion-challenged.”
“I’m not that bad. I can do my own stage make up now.”
“Yes, but if you did that for daytime wear, you’d look like a very scary clown.”
“Maybe you’d better fly down here and keep an eye on me, Mom.”
Roxi laughed. “We’ll be joining you in a day or two. Vanessa wants us to run standoff surveillance on you and your hunky boyfriend.”
Casey winced. Yup, the gig would be up the moment her teammates watched her and Hake together. She lied and said, “I’ll look forward to having you guys close by for support.”
“Just be careful until we get there. These are seriously bad dudes we’re messing with. You were lucky in London.”
Thus sobered, Casey hung up the phone and stepped out into the living room. Hake glanced up from a faxed document and did a gratifying double take. He held out the papers and someone took them out of his hand as he strode over to her. He took both of her hands in his. “You look fantastic.”
“You look pretty snazzy yourself,” she replied shyly. His tailored suit lay across his shoulders without a single crease, the starched shirt pristine, the silk tie perfectly knotted.
