by Karen Anders
Amber came in and said, “We ready to roll?”
“Just as soon as we can find her something to wear,” he said and proceeded to talk to the nurse about it. They found her a pair of cotton scrubs in mint green and a pair of surgical bootees for her feet.
When she was dressed, he slipped his hands around her waist and helped her down from the examination table. She wobbled a little bit, and he steadied her, her face rising up, her lips trembling slightly, but then she got control of herself.
Her waist was tiny, and his hands had never felt so big.
“Did you know that Mount Everest is twenty-nine thousand and twenty-five feet?” she said, her voice a breathless hush.
The sounds of the hospital died away, and his attention focused on her. The ends of her long, dark hair brushed the top of his hand where it curved around her waist. With that delicate nose, her thickly lashed eyes wide with a slight tilt, she ignited a forbidden thought in him. His gaze drifted to her lips, a hot longing curling deep in his gut.
He smiled. Interesting the way she blurted out a random fact. She was a kindred spirit, a geekette. Not a stretch for a scientist who’d attended college at ten. He imagined that she’d never been given the opportunity to interact with her own peers in a normal manner. “Twenty-nine thousand and twenty-nine, actually.”
She blinked those pretty eyes. And looked away. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve climbed it.”
She breathed a sigh of admiration. “Have you? What was that like?”
“Exhilarating. Scary. The air at the top tasted like freedom.”
She looked envious, and he wondered about her background and if she’d ever tasted freedom.
“You can let go of me now, Agent Fitzgerald. I think I’m quite steady.”
She might be, but his knees were a bit wobbly and it had nothing to do with being shot at.
His hand slid away from her waist, and she looked down and tucked her hair behind her ear. He pushed the curtain aside, and they walked out of the examination room.
The temperature outside had dropped, and he smelled snow on the air. She shivered in his jacket. He needed to get her some warm clothes.
He opened the door for her, and she said a soft “Thank you” as she settled inside, and Amber got into the driver’s seat.
He got in with her and they headed to the navy yard. It was still too risky to take her anywhere near her house.
“Amber, stop at Branson Station Mall. I’m guessing you don’t shop high end, probably a mix between comfortable Gap and midincome stores.”
She turned to look at him, her eyes wide. “Yes. How did you know that?”
Amber chuckled. “He’s got observation skills like a freaking hawk,” she said.
“I’d say you’re a less-is-more girl and gravitate toward sleek and structured.”
“That’s a pretty good trick, Agent Fitzgerald.”
He smiled. “It was easy.”
“How?”
“You’re a bit shorter than average, so women of your height often choose tailored clothes to maximize the fit. You’re a scientist and you thrive on order and discipline. So, I’d say you were a minimalist. I’d guess your favorite designers work with raw and natural fibers.”
Her jaw dropped open.
She met Amber’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “He did that to me the first day on the job.”
“Was he right?”
“To a T. It was his observation that actually found you in time to save you. It’s just what he does.”
Her gaze was direct when she met his eyes, assessing. He found her an interesting mix of bold and shy. Bold in her job. Confident, unbending and competent, but with people less so, more shy and wary. But a substantial backbone. It had taken a lot of guts to jump from that window to the tree. There was nothing he admired more than courage. On the battlefield, in performance of duty, in everyday life.
And there was something else. Some kind of shadow in her background. Something that terrified her. He’d seen it in her eyes when he’d caught her. That intrigued him, as well.
“Can I just go home?”
“Not yet,” Amber said, shaking her head.
“The mall, Amber.”
When Amber parked, he got out with Dr. Baang and followed close behind her into the store. He waited while she chose a couple of outfits, toiletries, her unmentionables and footwear.
When he paid for the clothes, she promised to pay him back. He shrugged.
“I would really like to take a shower.”
“We can take care of that at NCIS. There are employee showers where you can freshen up.”
Back in the car, they headed to the navy yard located in Southeast D.C. bounded by I-395 to the north, South Capitol to the west and the Anacostia River to the south and east. Dr. Baang’s work was not far from NCIS in a research building that was occupied by a government contractor, Coyne Industries. The owner, Russell Coyne, was Dr. Baang’s boss.
Amber parked, and he kept close tabs on Dr. Baang as they went inside, signed her in at the lobby and went straight downstairs into the basement, where the showers were.
Amber went in with her while he waited outside. He paced, antsy. Protection detail hadn’t been officially assigned, but he already knew he was going to ask Chris for the duty.
Just then his phone buzzed. “Fitzgerald,” he said.
“Dr. Baang?” Chris said.
“She’s showering right now with Amber watching over her. As soon as she is dressed, I was going to ask her some questions.”
“Let me know when you’re in the conference room, and send Amber back upstairs.”
“Will do.”
He opened the door to the showers and froze. Dr. Baang had just stepped out. She was wrapped in fluffy terry cloth, her shoulders glistening, rivulets of water running down her creamy skin, her dark, dark hair a wet ribbon of ink against the stark white of the towel.
She turned to look at him. With her hair slicked back, the stark beauty of her face hit him like a punch to the gut. Then he saw the dark circles under her eyes and her fatigue. She must be exhausted.
She took a breath, her slender throat working as if his eyes on her made her more...anxious. She grabbed her bags and scurried out of his sight.
He released a heated breath just as Amber spied him. “What?” she asked.
“Boss wants you back upstairs.”
She turned to look toward the dressing room. “You got this?”
“Yes,” he said. “I can take it from here.”
He waited in the shower area for her to emerge. He heard the blow-dryer come on, then go off again after a few minutes. Finally she came out. She was wearing a pair of slim black pants. A short blue cardigan over a white cotton, long-sleeved T covered her torso, and a dark navy scarf curled around her neck. Her dark hair was pulled off her face in a low ponytail. She wore a pair of stylish, low-heeled black boots. His coat was neatly folded over her arm.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
She offered it to him and smiled. “Better, now that I’m clean, dressed and warm. Thank you for the use of your coat and taking me to the mall. That was thoughtful.” She clutched the bags. “So, what happens now?”
“We’re going to go upstairs, and I’m going to ask you some questions about what happened.”
“And after that, I can go home?”
“Let’s take it one step at a time.”
She looked as if she was going to argue with him, but then walked out of the shower room to the elevator. He followed and pushed the button for the main floor.
“So, this is headquarters for NCIS?” she asked, getting out of the elevator a few moments later.
He ushered her to the right with his hand in the small of
her back. “No, that’s in Quantico, Virginia. This is the Major Case Unit.”
“You’re a special agent?” She turned to look at him as they walked close to where Beau and Amber sat working.
“That’s right. He’s special all right.”
“Shut up, Beau,” Vin said, passing by the desks on the way to the conference room. “Don’t pay him any mind. He likes to pull my chain.”
He looked over toward Chris’s desk. “Let the boss know where we are when he gets back, would you, Amber?”
Once Dr. Baang was seated in the conference room, he asked, “Would you like something to drink or eat?”
“No, nothing to eat, but the coffee smells good.”
“That could be deceptive, depending on who made it,” Vin’s boss said as he closed the door behind him. “Special Agent Chris Vargas.”
“I remember. You were at the house a few hours ago.” She gave him a look. “I’ll risk the coffee. Black, please.”
Vin stood and poured her a cup, brought it back to the table and set it down. She took a sip and smiled. “Must have been the good brewer.”
“Beau.”
“Not Amber?”
“No, I think she burns water.”
Chris chuckled.
Vin sat down, and he intuitively knew Chris wanted him to take point. “Dr. Baang.”
“Sky, please.”
“Why don’t you tell us everything that happened from the beginning?”
“I woke up when they were coming up the stairs.” She trailed off and looked really spooked.
He reached out and covered her hand. “You’re safe now.”
She closed her eyes briefly. “They drugged me, and I woke up in that house. They had my laptop, but I’m not sure if they were able to breach my encryption. They asked me nothing because there was really no time. I escaped only minutes after I woke up.”
“Our IT guys tell us that your encryption wasn’t breached.”
“That’s a relief. Can I get my laptop back? My life is on there.”
“Yes, I’ll get it for you later.” Her life? Really? For such a beautiful woman that made him sad. He remembered how hard his father had worked. He remembered how his father wanted him to take on corporate America and follow in his footsteps. But Vin hadn’t been interested in that. He hadn’t gone to Harvard or Princeton for business like his father had wanted. He’d gone to MIT and gotten a degree in computer engineering. When he was finished with his degree, he’d had to face his father again pressing him about joining him at the company and working his life away. That was when he’d told his dad that he didn’t want to follow in his footsteps. But his father hadn’t gotten it, so Vin had enlisted in the marine corps and took the decision into his own hands.
That single decision changed the course of his life. He was doing work that mattered deeply to him. Protecting his country instead of making loads of money for sitting at a desk. As an agent at NCIS, he was challenged every day, involved in his job. It wasn’t his life, but it was what he’d been looking for.
Chris’s phone rang, and he excused himself and left the room.
“Did you get a good look at the men who took you?”
She shivered, and his hand tightened over hers. She pulled it out of his grip and wrapped her arms around her waist, her eyes going distant and scared.
“Yes, I remember the man who stuck me with a hypodermic. I only got brief looks at the other three. One of them had his back to me. I never saw his face. They were speaking Russian.”
“Russian?” What the hell did the Russians want with a data-fusion scientist?
“Did you notice anything else that might help us track these men down?”
“No. I’m sorry, but I was unconscious for most of the time they held me.”
“You’re doing fine,” he said and smiled, but that seemed to make her only withdraw more.
“I’d really just like to get this over with and then go home.”
Vin captured her gaze. He knew what was going on here. She was in a state of fear, and fear made a person go for what they deemed was the safest place to them. Home. He took a breath and eased it out. “Dr. Baang, some unknown men broke into your home by bypassing your sophisticated alarm system and kidnapped you. Until we eliminate this threat to you, you won’t be going home.”
Her chin came up, and she stared at him, her eyes going mutinous.
“I want to go home.”
“I understand that is what you want. But it’s not safe. You are now under protective custody by NCIS. We’re going to secure you at a safe house while we track down this threat to you and to national security.”
She shifted and bolted up from her chair, her eyes a bit wild. “You cannot keep me here. You can’t control me. I make my own decisions.”
“You’re not thinking rationally here,” he said. Her emotions were running rampant. He understood that it was going to get worse before it got better. Maybe he could cut her off at the pass.
“They want your research.”
“I’m sure that you’re very good at your job, Agent Fitzgerald, but you couldn’t possibly understand what I do.”
“What? Data fusion? The process of integrating multiple data and knowledge representing the same real-world object into a consistent, accurate and useful representation? What you do is sensor fusion, specifically sensor-fusion algorithms. A way of classifying information with applications to traffic management, remote sensing, target classification and tracking, weather forecasting and, in your particular case, military and homeland security.”
She stared at him for a moment, assessing, and then her lips tightened. “You’re wasting your considerable talent at NCIS, Agent Fitzgerald.”
He bristled. He’d heard that more than once, just recently from Brittany, his former girlfriend, who had pushed him to something bigger and better. She couldn’t accept him for who he really was. She too didn’t understand his commitment to what he did for a living. It had destroyed their relationship because she had no clue what made him tick. She didn’t know him to his core, and, as far as he was concerned, there was no future there.
She headed for the door, and Vin went after her. Reaching for her shoulder, he tried to get her to see reason. “Dr. Baang, it’s too dangerous....”
The minute his hand landed on her, she whirled around. “Don’t touch me!” she seethed, holding her ground. “I don’t want your help. I don’t want to be in protective custody. I have a job to do, and I want to go home so that I can change and get to it.”
“Dr. Baang,” he said firmly, “you are not going home or to your job at this time. You are going to a safe house. You were kidnapped by unknown foreign enemies with a single purpose. To breach national security and compromise your research. Do you want that? Do you want to fall into the hands of these men again? They will not be gentle or persuasive. They will torture you, hurt you, anything to get at what they want. I am the man that’s going to stand between them and you. Do you understand me?”
Her eyes were wide and so, so blue. She was breathing shallowly.
Without thinking, without analyzing or running any scenarios in his head, he reached out and pulled her into his arms. She remained rigid for a few minutes, and then she collapsed against him as if her bones just melted. Her arms went around his neck, and she buried her face into his throat, her breath still a little too fast, her arms clutching at him a little too tightly, but he was okay with that.
He would admit that ever since he’d laid eyes on her he’d wanted his arms around her, but not when she was freaking out from panic and terror. Her response was pure reaction to what she’d gone through, but he was sure there was something else there.
She clutched him and took a hitching breath. She was coming to terms with what she had to do. Understanding that she w
as now under his protection. Understanding that her life had been drastically changed, and there was no going back to it until he deemed it safe.
Until those men were caught and the threat to her neutralized.
Still, he couldn’t help his response to her. It was unprofessional. Not strictly against the rules, but just not a smart practice. But that all went hazy when she was flush against him with full body contact.
The scent of her washed through him.
Intoxicating.
He found himself breathing deeper just to have more of her. Dumb. So, so dumb—the word went through his mind. He was a moron, trying to breathe her in, but damn, he loved the way she smelled. He wanted to erase that shadowed look in her eyes. He wanted her to know she was safe with him.
“This isn’t the first time you’ve been kidnapped.”
All the signs were there. The lack of trust, the need to return back to a normal routine, the irritability and the fear.
“No,” she said, the word a puff of hot air against his skin.
She offered nothing else, and he didn’t push her. He would be patient and wait until she was comfortable. He wasn’t her psychologist. He was her shield, her weapon. He would do what it took to keep her safe.
She pulled away, and he couldn’t seem to step back, so luckily she did. She looked up at him. Raw fear stared back at him. A fear with depth, this fear had history. This was intimate fear, the kind that robbed a person of the ability to reason.
“They’re going to have to go through me to get to you again.”
Her eyes went glassy then, as if his concern for her undid something inside her. She nodded, then faltered. “I don’t like putting myself in another person’s hands. I—I’ve been determined that I would take care of myself.”
“I know this is hard for you, but I’m nonnegotiable.”
She bristled a little. “You are very high-handed, Agent Fitzgerald.”
