He met her gaze directly. His eyes were dark. His mouth was a flat line. No, he said quietly. You dont.
She believed him. Despite the warmth of the night and the weight of his jacket, she shivered.
Marcus reached into his pocket and pulled out a key. Grasping her elbow, he tugged her around the hood of the dark sedan parked beside her limo.
He unlocked the passenger door. In front. To make her feel more equal? Or to keep a better eye on her? Get in.
She stared at the dark, uninviting interior of the car. A horrible thought emerged from the flood in her brain like a corpse on the tide. She didnt want to know. She had to know.
Where is Eric?
Eric, her driver. If Marcus had done anything to her innocent driver, no power on earth could persuade her to get in that car.
Hes fine.
I dont believe you, she said, proud that her voice didnt tremble.
Marcus frowned. Okay, not fine exactly. Hes locked in a utilities closet by the mens room on the lower level of the hotel parking garage. But he didnt see me. When the night janitor lets him out, hell think hes just another D.C. mugging victim. Now will you get in the car?
Her mouth dropped open. A mugging victim? You hit him?
No. I popped a bag over his head and took his wallet. Damn it, youre a target out here. Get in the car.
His exasperation was more reassuring than any soothing response could have been. Her gaze swept the broad, flat expanse of empty crosswalks, empty sidewalks, empty parking lots. Trees cast shadows in the moonlight. Deserted passenger shelters glowed, islands in the dark.
Do you have a gun?
He sighed. Of course I have a gun. Im supposed to be protecting you.
Nice of you to remember, Samantha muttered. But she got in the car.
He slammed her door and stalked to the other side of the car.
Samantha took a deep breath. She should be terrified. And on some deep-down level she was. But at the same time there was a surreal quality to the whole incident, not quite on the level of one of those tabloid stories. Ambassador Abducted by Aliens or I Gave Birth to Mutants Baby.
Only this was more like some campy movie. I Was Kidnapped by Brendan Fraser. The man was a good actor, you could half believe in the danger, and then youd get that trademark twinkle, look into that utterly good-guy face and think, Brendan Fraser? Get real. It was like being abducted by the Jolly Green Giant.
Surreptitiously, Samantha tried her door handle. It didnt budge.
Marcus slid his bulk into the drivers seat. Drivers side locks, he explained.
She pressed her lips together.
Hey, theyre for your own safety, he said defensively. I dont want you to do anything stupid.
Like trust you?
Cheap shot, Ambassador. He started the car.
I think now that youve stuck your tongue down my throat and kidnapped me, you could call me Samantha.
She watched in satisfaction as a muscle jumped in his jaw. This is not a kidnapping, he said through his teeth.
She craned her neck to read the Dunn LoringMerrifield Metro sign in case she was ever called to take the stand or write a rescue note. No? What would you call it?
Protective custody.
And who do you imagine youre protecting me from?
The Rebelians.
Youre expecting trouble from the Rebelians? In D.C.?
Big trouble.
His grim tone slid into her like a knife, sharp and chilling. She told herself she understood the consequences and accepted the dangers of her position. But she didnt really believe she was being threatened on U.S. soil.
You think Im an assassination target.
It doesnt matter what I think. What matters is what Ive been ordered to do.
By whom? Agent Walker?
He was silent. Which could only mean
Walker doesnt know where I am, does he? The realization hollowed her chest.
That was the plan. Marcus turned his head to look at her. Youre safer that way.
Was she? Safe? Alone with him?
Oh my goodness, no.
She peered out her window, trying to memorize their route. Tall, slender trees stood sentinel along the street. Gallows Road. How appropriate, she thought, and tried to ignore her jumping pulse.
You know, DeBruzkyas opposition to the accord is nothing new, she said, choosing her words carefully. I appreciate the need for security, but theres no reason to act precipitously here.
DeBruzkyas not our only worry. She was only a little reassured by his use of the word our. Youve got that crime family, the whatchamacallit, after you, too.
The Coalition. Rebelia is a base for their arms traffic and money laundering.
Whatever. The point is, youre a target.
She drew herself up. She had herself together now. I am willing to assume the risks of my job. Just as you are willing to assume the risks of yours.
Uh-huh. He didnt sound convinced. Only I can take care of myself. You cant.
Obviously, or I wouldnt have gotten in this car with you.
His hands tightened on the steering wheel, but he didnt say anything. At least he wasnt going to strangle her.
Not yet.
Anyway, she said, striving for reason, reaching for calm, if Im not in D.C. to be confirmed in my appointment by the president, if I dont go back to Delmonico next week, what do you think will happen to the treaty then?
What are you talking about?
Youre correct in assuming that General DeBruzkya and the Coalition leadership would like me removed from negotiations with Delmonico. But they dont have to kill me to achieve their objectives.
Marcus frowned. Can you say that again using really little words?
My disappearance will have the same effect on the future of the Delmonico Accord as my death. She waited a moment for him to absorb her argument, and then risked a touch on his bare arm. She was still wearing his jacket. His skin was warm. His muscles were knotted with tension. Or else he was always as hard as a rock. You have to take me back. You must see that you have to take me back.
He didnt answer her. The white lane markings flashed by and faded as the odometer numbers crept upward.
How long would it be, Samantha wondered, before her absence was noticed from the White House? How long before Matt or somebody phoned the hotel? Before the police were alerted? Or the FBI?
You have to call, Marcus said suddenly.
She blinked. Call who?
Your secretary. Philip. Tell him youre okay, youre taking a vacation or something.
Are you stupid?
He cut her a dark look. Hurt, almost. She half opened her mouth to apologize. She was never rude.
But he said evenly, No. Its a good idea.
Forget apologizing. The man of steel had the stubbornness of a mule and the sensitivity of a rock.
She set her mouth. I wont do it.
Yeah, you will. All that stuff you said? About the treaty? You cant risk the Delmonican government backing out because they believe youre not a player anymore. If they link your disappearance to the attack on your driver, you lose. Everybody loses. You tell them youre on vacation and everybodys still in the game.
Frustrated, she stared at his hard, dark profile. He was right.
How can you do this? she appealed. Youve pledged to protect the interests of the United States.
At the moment, Im pledged to protect you. Im doing my job. And youll do yours.
How? she demanded.
From a pay phone, he said, deliberately misunderstanding her. Theres a rest area up ahead. You know what you want to say?
I can think of numerous things Id like to say. Four letter things, most of them. And Id say them, if I thought it would do any good.
His full lips quirked. Youre not exactly keeping quiet over there.
If you wanted quiet, you should have kidnapped somebody else.
His smile faded. This is not a kidnapping.
Will you drive me back to D.C.?
No.
Well, then She let her voice trail off suggestively.
The bright blue rest area sign stood square against the darkness. Marcus turned the car off the highway.
Samantha peered through the windshield. It wasnt much of a rest area: picnic tables and trash cans, a pump with a water fountain on top set in a block of concrete, a phone. No rest room. No other cars, no sharp-eyed highway patrol officer or friendly truckers. She bit her lip in disappointment.
Marcus cruised to a stop beside the phone, a dimpled metal box on a pole. He lifted his hips to reach the wallet in his back pocket. He was verybig. She looked away. It was one thing to admire his body when he was escorting her through her world; quite another to cope with his massive presence now that they were on their way toWhere, exactly?
Ive got a phone card you can use, he said.
Arent you afraid theyll trace the call? Even to her own ears, she sounded bitter.
Its prepaid. Cash, he explained, as if her question were perfectly reasonable. The phones at the hotel arent set up for a trace. Besides, if we do this right, your secretary wont know anythings going on.
Philip is very capable. Hes going to know something is going on.
Then its up to you to convince him otherwise.
If she did what Marcus wanted, she would become an accomplice in her own abduction. If she didnt, if she alerted Philip to initiate a search for her, if her disappearance became public knowledge, she could undo everything she had worked so hard to accomplish.
Under his giant jacket, her fingers worried a bead sewn into the design of her dress.
What should I tell him? she asked.
Whatever you want. No, Marcus corrected. Whatever you think wont make him suspicious.
She twisted the bead. What exactly do you imagine I could say about my disappearing on an evening when I was invited to the White House that he would not find suspicious?
To her surprise, Marcus appeared to give her question serious thought.
Tell him youre sorry, he said finally. Tell him youve met someone and he asked you to go away with him for the weekend.
Twist, twist. Tug, tug. She almost had it. Philip knows I am not the kind of woman who goes away for a weekend with a man Ive just met.
She could feel Marcuss gaze, warm and speculative. No?
Her face got hot. She had opened her mouth for this man. She had clutched his shoulders and moaned. Whatever she said to him now, whatever she did, he had cracked her open and eaten her up like an oyster in its shell. She felt exposed. Slimy.
No, she said firmly.
Okay. Then tell him you needed a break. Its true, so he ought to believe it. Tell him you were in the car, headed for the White House, and all of a sudden you couldnt take the prospect of talking and laughing and making nice to a bunch of self-absorbed politicians who dont care that youre strung out and sick of holding it in and tired of holding it together. Holding the treaty together. Holding yourself together. Tell him that.
She was shaking. The kiss had already laid her open. This was salt on the wound. I dont
Tell him one more damn night of being cool and perfect Ambassador Barnes was just too much for you. There was an actual edge to his voice that cut through her fear and embarrassment and lanced her heart. Tell him you need a couple of days for yourself.
Her head reeled. Her fingers twisted and twisted the bead under the concealing folds of his jacket until it fell into her hand. But she managed to ask calmly, Only a couple of days?
One shoulder lifted. We can hope.
She got out of the car to make her phone call.
It amazed her how simple it was, how easily Philip accepted her explanations and excuses.
I told you you werent taking care of yourself, Philip scolded. Maybe now youll get some rest and eat occasionally.
She had to hold the receiver away from her ear so that Marcus, looming over her, could hear both ends of the conversation. Yes. About dinner
Ill call the White House and make your excuses, Philip said with kindly efficiency. Ill say you werent feeling well.
She was a little put out by how readily he dealt with the repercussions of her supposed breakdown. Thank you. Philip
Will you be using Eric? her secretary continued.
No, I want to be alone. Anyway, he didnt show up tonight.
Really? Philips voice sharpened.
Im sure hes just another D.C. mugging victim fine, Samantha said. Unless hes sick, like Agent Walker.
Oh, right. Stomach virus, wasnt it?
Something like that.
Is there a number where I can reach you in an emergency?
Marcus stiffened.
I dont really know yet where Ill be staying, Samantha said, thinking dryly that that much at least was true. But Ill call you as soon as I get the chance.
Marcuss eyes narrowed. She met his gaze steadily, hoping her expression didnt reveal her racing heart.
And youre sure youre all right? Philip asked.
No, Im being kidnapped by a large, pigheaded Navy SEAL who tastes like honey and kisses like sin.
Im fine. Tell Matt Im sorry to have missed the chance to meet his Carey.
Will do, Philip said cheerfully.
They said goodbye. Samantha hung up, clutching the receiver to hide her hands trembling.
All set? Marcus rumbled.
She inhaled slowly and released her breath, released the grip of her hands. Both hands.
Yes, she said clearly. Im ready to go now.
She hurried the few steps back to the car, not turning to see if he followed. She couldnt see him behind her. Or hear him, either. It struck her again how silently he moved for such a big man.
He closed the passenger side door and walked around the hood of the
car. He folded himself behind the wheel, his knees, thighs and shoulders crowding her space.
You dropped this. Back there. His face was blank. His voice was flat.
He tossed something small and sparkling into her lap. It caught the light as it fell. Her heart hitched as she recognized itthe tiny, glittering bead she had twisted from the stitching of her gown and left in the tall grass by the phone as a clue.
Sucks for you that I was watching, he said, and started the car.
Six
I t felt like frigging Amateur Night, the day after payday, when nothing on board went right.
Marcus clenched his jaw and concentrated on the dark road ahead. Hed almost missed that bead.
The realization made him sweat. It was a mistake, and he never made mistakes. He was trained not to make mistakes. Only the fact that his eyesight was better than the average bears had saved him from this one.
Of course, one bead in the grass might not have been a problem. Not as long as nobody was looking for a missing ambassador in an evening gown covered in designer doodads.
But suppose somebody was? Suppose her secretary got suspicious, after all, or her White House buddy tipped off the feds, or the cops made a connection between her drivers getting shoved into a utility closet and the ambassadors sudden desire for a vacation?
There was no getting away from the fact that Eric the chauffeur was a loose end. And that business about how her disappearance would affect the treatyHe so hadnt seen that one coming. Why hadnt he? Hell, why hadnt Baxter?
There were too many loose ends. Too many damn variables. How could Marcus be expected to anticipate them all?
But until Baxter dug up the mole in his department, this mission depended on Marcus.
His career could depend on this mission.
And Samanthas life depended on both.
His hands tightened on the wheel. Okay. He could handle this. No more screwups. No more distractions. No more looking at her lush, full body in that tight, shiny dress and dreaming about ripping it off like this was Christmas morning and she was his present.
Family Secrets: Books 5-8 Page 7
