"If you don't move," she said through her teeth, "you'll force me to shove you with my bad shoulder."
It was the most effective thing she could have said. He immediately lifted his hands away and stepped to the side.
He would never want to see Sarah suffer because of him.
* * *
Sarah usually slept like a rock when she was out in the field. She knew the wisdom of grabbing rest whenever the opportunity arose. She could sleep through a landing in a troop transport on a short runway or sitting up against a tree with nothing but a poncho to protect her from the pouring rain. But as she lay on her cot that night, sleep wouldn't come.
She curled on her side, her gaze going to the strip of light that showed beneath the bedroom door. She wasn't the only one awake. Until half an hour ago, she'd heard the faint tap of Hawk's keyboard—he'd been working at his computer since they had said good-night. What could be so important that he would lose sleep over it?
Now, that was a stupid question. Everything about Hawk's work was important. That was why someone had paid a quarter million dollars to Dieter Weltzer to kill him.
She sighed and sat up, raking her hair back from her face. She probably should have asked the Major for a replacement when she'd checked in with him tonight. She was getting far too personally involved with this mission. She and Hawk seemed to have come to an understanding about that kiss, but now that the attraction between them was out in the open, it was even harder to ignore.
Then why had she mentioned Jackson? If she wanted to maintain an emotional distance from Hawk, why bring her fiancé into the conversation? All right, her love for Jackson was the reason she would never love anyone else, but what was happening between her and Hawk wasn't love. It wasn't anything like the comfortable certainty she'd felt with Jackson. No, as she'd known from the start, it was based on sex.
Well, perhaps it was a bit more than that. It could be called a crush—because of the background research she'd studied on the flight over, she'd already begun to admire the famous Dr. Lemay even before she'd met him face-to-face.
A crush. It seemed so…juvenile. She didn't think she'd had a crush on anyone before, even when she'd been a teenager. For one thing, she hadn't had the opportunity. The general's career had taken them to bases all over the world. The frequent moves had been stimulating, but they put an end to relationships before they had a chance to start. She'd become an expert in the art of packing. She'd also become skilled in the art of saying goodbye in a dozen languages. The friendships she'd made among the other Army brats were quick but fleeting. They all knew the routine, and they knew better than to make promises about keeping in touch.
That was why the love she'd shared with Jackson had been all the more precious. It had been the exception to the rule. They had been a perfect match. She'd known he was the right man from the moment the general had introduced them. She merely had to think of Jackson and other men paled in comparison.
So she could handle this. By this time tomorrow, it would all be over. That's what she had to keep reminding herself. Yes, only another twenty-four hours to go, and Hawk's scheduled activities would be over, the conference would have ended and they would all be able to go their separate ways and resume their normal lives.
Somehow that thought only made her wider awake.
She tossed back the blanket and got to her feet. She was always more at ease doing things and making herself useful. She did a circuit of the room, taking time to ensure the door was securely bolted and the window was locked, then went to the desk and picked up the photo of Weltzer.
Interpol said he was a sniper, but as long as Sarah and Hawk stayed inside the hotel, Weltzer wouldn't be able to set up any long-distance shots. What strategy would he try next? An ambush? Explosives? Not being able to use his preferred method of attack would put him at a disadvantage. Would Sarah be able to neutralize him before he did any damage? She would have to meet with the hotel security people again in the morning and coordinate a plan of action. If she didn't feel it was adequate, she would advise Hawk to cancel his appearances.
Would he agree? Probably not. He didn't seem to be the kind of man who gave up easily. About anything.
A thud came from the bedroom, like an object dropping to the carpet. The grill from an air vent? The lamp in front of the window? Even as she was going through the possibilities in her head, Sarah snatched her gun from beneath her pillow, ran to the bedroom door and swung it open.
She took in the scene at a glance. The curtain was motionless and still drawn closed; the air vent in the wall opposite the bathroom was still in place. The door of the tiny closet was open and held nothing but Hawk's clothes and a spare blanket. There was no intruder. No movement. Hawk was stretched out on top of the bedspread, his shoulders propped against the quilted satin headboard, his head lolling to the side. Sarah had an instant of gut-wrenching horror—had Weltzer gotten past her after all?—but then she heard the snore.
Hawk wasn't dead, he was sleeping.
Sarah breathed out slowly through her nose, trying to regain her calm. This wasn't good. The fear she'd felt just now wasn't because she'd thought she might have failed to do her job. It was because she didn't want Hawk hurt. Her concern was for the man, not the subject of her mission.
I wasn't kissing the soldier, Sarah. I was kissing the woman.
She waited another minute until her pulse had settled, then moved farther into the room—she still needed to determine the source of the noise she had heard. She could see nothing out of place until she rounded the bed. Hawk's laptop computer was lying on the carpet, propped open like a book standing on end. It must have slipped off his lap when he'd fallen asleep.
She flicked the safety on her gun, tipped it toward the ceiling and turned her attention to Hawk. Except for his shoes, he was still fully clothed. Scraps of paper with scribbled notes littered the bed around him. Several disks were stacked on the bedside table with the lamp. One of Hawk's hands rested on his stomach, rising and falling with his steady breathing. The other hand lay palm up at his side, his fingers curled. A pen lay just beyond his fingertips, as if it had rolled out of his grasp.
Finally, he looked more like the intellectual she knew he was. A dedicated scientist falling asleep at his work. Yes, this was how she should picture him. It was far better than remembering how he'd looked in the gym half-naked and glistening with sweat.
She gritted her teeth and returned her gaze to his computer. Should she pick it up, make sure it wasn't damaged? If she didn't move it, he might step on it when he got up. On the other hand, if she touched it, he might accuse her of trying to spy on him again. She didn't want to risk losing the cooperation she'd gained.
He wasn't a man who trusted easily. Why? Was it due to his intellect? Did that make him overanalyze every aspect of a situation?
Or was his distrust rooted more deeply than that? Why had Jibril said Hawk knew women couldn't be trusted?
Oh, great. She was doing it again. His hang-ups, his past, his emotions, none of those were her concern. Getting him through the next twenty-four hours was. She set her gun on the bedside table, walked to the closet and reached for the spare blanket that rested on the shelf over the bar.
The mattress creaked. "Sarah?"
She turned, the blanket clutched to her chest. "Dr. Lemay. I'm sorry if I woke you."
He blinked a few times. "Must have fallen asleep. What time is it?"
"Around one."
Paper crumpled as he sat forward. He yawned and rubbed his jaw, his palm rasping over the beginning of his beard. He looked at the blanket in her arms. "Are you cold?"
She hesitated, not wanting to admit the blanket had been intended for him.
"You're welcome to share the bed with me, if you like."
"No, thank you, sir. You snore."
His lips curved into a lazy smile. "I've never had any complaints before."
Had she thought this was a safe way to picture him? His eyes were half-closed
, his big body still relaxed with sleep and that smile…
He had dimples. She hadn't seen them before. Beside those masculine lines that framed his mouth, two tiny indentations folded into his cheeks.
No, this wasn't safe at all. "Actually, I came in here because I heard a noise. I'm pretty sure it was your laptop hitting the floor."
His smile froze. The sleepiness disappeared from his face. He swore and leaned over the side of the mattress.
"It's probably okay," she said. "The carpet is thick."
He grabbed the computer and levered himself back on the bed. He set it on his outstretched legs and hit a few keys. The hard drive crackled. "Come on, come on," he muttered, peering at the screen. "Where is it?"
Sarah moved to the foot of the bed to watch him. "Did you lose something?"
Hawk studied the computer screen for a moment, then exhaled hard. "Still there. Damn, that was too close."
"Maybe you should try to get some rest. You can finish this in the morning. You don't have any meetings planned until eleven."
He took a disk from the night table and inserted it in the computer. "I canceled the morning meeting."
"The one with the representatives from Greenpeace?"
"Yes." He saved his work, closed the lid of his computer and set it aside. "I decided it isn't worth the risk. I'm also skipping the panel discussion with the University of Uppsala Theoretical Physics Department."
She couldn't completely hide her start of surprise. She'd known he was taking the threat to his life seriously now—ordering dinner from room service had illustrated that much—but he was being more cautious than she'd expected. "Does this mean you're canceling your speech, as well?"
"No, Sarah. Now that I can't count on Jibril, I have no choice but to go forward."
"What does the prince of Moukim have to do with your speech?"
Hawk picked up his discarded pen, regarding her in silence for a while. He seemed to be weighing something in his mind. Finally he clipped the pen in his shirt pocket and patted the mattress beside him. "Sit down. I'll tell you about it."
Sarah didn't move.
He lifted his eyebrows. "Worried you won't be able to keep your hands to yourself?"
She dropped the blanket near his feet and sat on the corner of the mattress opposite him. "I'm accustomed to enduring personal deprivations in the field, so I'll do my best to restrain myself, sir."
His lips twitched. "Better watch out. That's sounding like a challenge."
"You were going to tell me about Prince Jibril?"
His expression sobered. "Right. From what you said yesterday, you understand the significance of my research, and how fusion energy could change the power balance of the world. As a scientist I have a moral duty to take responsibility for what I develop. That's why I came to this conference. I had hoped to use my connection with Jibril to make the transition easier."
"The transition? You're talking about it as if fusion power is a sure thing."
Hawk pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked tired. "It's a matter of when, not if."
"I had no idea you were so close to a breakthrough."
"That's why I haven't published anything in years. I've done my best not to let anyone know until I can be sure my discoveries don't end up causing more harm than good."
"That's very admirable."
"In theory, anyway. I thought I'd approach Jibril because he's an influential man in OPEC. I realize there are other oil producers who aren't members of the organization, and as you pointed out yesterday, there are countless businesses and labor groups that will be impacted by my research, but Jibril was a good place to start. The biggest change has to be a change in attitude. If he had agreed to work with me, we could have phased in the change gradually. Moukim could have served as an example to OPEC of how an oil-based economy could profit from the new technology instead of resisting it."
"Is that why you didn't want to work for the Defense Department?"
He nodded. "Yes, that's why I turned down our government's offer. This discovery is too important to be left to the politicians or hoarded by one country. Fusion power should ease the tension between our culture and the rest of the world instead of aggravating it."
"But Jibril wasn't in a mood to cooperate."
"No. I hate being wrong, but seeing him was a mistake. We were friends once, but I had underestimated the importance he put on our past."
"I'm sorry it didn't work out."
He began gathering the notes that were scattered on the bed around him. "So am I. It won't be easy to change attitudes with only words. I've rewritten this speech three times."
She picked up a paper that was close to her hip and leaned forward to hand it to him. "I hope I didn't antagonize the prince further by my conduct at the reception."
He took the note and stacked it with the others. "It had nothing to do with you, Sarah. I should have known it wouldn't work the second I saw his yacht."
"Yes, I would imagine someone who was accustomed to that much wealth and power wouldn't want to see it threatened."
"That's part of it, but it's not what I meant. Do you remember what the boat was called?"
She closed her eyes, taking a moment to recall the image of the black-and-sand-colored yacht. She zeroed in on the lettering at the stern. "Yes." She returned her gaze to Hawk. "It was called Faith."
He tossed his notes beside his computer. "So was she."
Sarah didn't have to ask whom he meant. She knew by his tone. Faith must be the name of the woman he and Jibril had loved. And mourned.
Just when she thought she was getting a handle on her feelings, she got drawn in deeper. It must have been difficult for Hawk to approach Jibril in the first place. Seeing that name on the boat would have made it worse, yet he had gone through with the meeting, anyway, in the hopes of minimizing the problems that would arise from his research. She realized this scientist was as committed to his own concept of duty as she was to hers. She had to respect him for that.
He swung his legs off the bed and got to his feet. "Stay there for a minute."
"Where are you going?"
He strode to the bathroom. "Since we're both up, I'm going to run you a hot bath. The heat should be good for your shoulder." He paused in the doorway. "Take all the time you want. I'll work in the sitting room until you're done."
He might have teased her about getting into bed with him, but there was nothing suggestive about his words this time. It was clear to Sarah that Hawk's offer was made out of genuine consideration, not as a ploy to get her naked.
Obviously, the respect between them was mutual.
She cursed under her breath. On top of everything else, now she was starting to like him.
Chapter 6
"Stay close to Lemay and await further orders."
Sarah frowned, pressing her free hand over her ear, unsure she had heard Major Redinger correctly over the noise in the suite. A pair of Stockholm policemen stood near the door, talking with the head of hotel security. The official liaison from the American Embassy—a red-headed bulldog of a man named Pendleton—was hovering nearby with his own cell phone pressed to his ear. Until a few minutes ago, Hawk had been in the midst of them, using Pendleton as a translator as he went over the measures they had taken. Now he was sitting on the sofa, clicking at the keyboard of the computer on the coffee table in front of him.
It wasn't yet four in the afternoon, but full darkness had already fallen. The soft lighting from the lamps around the suite did nothing to dull the edge of tension in the atmosphere. It was almost show time. There was less than two hours to go before Hawk was scheduled to address the conference. If Weltzer was going to make a move, it would have to be soon.
So, why was the Major changing Sarah's orders? "Say again, sir?" she asked. "I'm having difficulty hearing you."
"Stand by." There was a pause. When Redinger spoke again, his words came through clearly. "Remain with Lemay," he said. "Coordinate his security. I'll want
a full report at the close of the conference."
Sarah terminated the call and stored her phone in her suit jacket. She had misunderstood. Nothing had changed. Her duty was to keep Hawkins Lemay alive. Her anxiety was making her jumpy.
She couldn't afford that. She had to be calm. Put aside the incipient panic and concentrate on her duty.
She walked to the group by the door and had them review the precautions that had been put in place. Pendleton finished his phone call and joined them, offering assistance in the form of an armored limousine, but it wouldn't be necessary until Hawk was ready to leave for the airport since Hawk's speech and the closing ceremonies for the conference would take place in the hotel ballroom.
It wasn't complicated. The risk factor was more than acceptable. Because of the high-level diplomats who had been in attendance here for the past three days, the security both within the hotel and on the surrounding streets was already as tight as a drum.
Sarah had done exactly what was expected of her. She had determined what was needed, she had made use of the local authorities, she had even succeeded in gaining the cooperation of her subject. What should have been an easy breather of a mission was becoming precisely that. Easy.
Yet she couldn't remember feeling this nervous. Instead of the low-level excitement that usually preceded action, she felt…dread.
Somehow she managed to finalize the arrangements with the police and the hotel staff, thanked the embassy man for his cooperation and ushered them from the suite. The moment she and Hawk were alone, her stomach knotted.
How could she decide the risk was acceptable? What if she was wrong, what if her anxiety caused her to slip up? What if the next time she saw Hawk lying motionless with his head lolling to the side he wasn't merely asleep?
"How are you holding up, Sarah?"
She checked the door lock, wiped her damp palms on her skirt and moved to the wardrobe. "Fine, thank you, sir. How about you?"
"Impatient to get this over with." He packed up his computer and stored it in the bedroom, then returned to cross the room to where she stood. He had dressed in a sober charcoal-gray suit and a tailored shirt for his appearance. The suit emphasized his height and his broad shoulders, the crisp white shirt brought out the piercing blue of his eyes. He looked distinguished and controlled…except for his loosened tie and the furrows that his fingers had left in his neatly combed hair.
Aim for the Heart Page 7
