An ear for language? With his thick accent? Oh, come on…. Veronica didn’t want to offend the admiral by rolling her eyes—at least not outwardly.
“Joe’s a good man,” Forrest told her. “A little too intense sometimes, but that’s what makes him a good commander. You win his loyalty, and he’ll be loyal to the end. He demands loyalty in return—and gets it. His men would follow him to hell and back.” He chuckled. “And they have, on more than one occasion.”
Veronica turned toward him. “Joe doesn’t think this operation is dangerous,” she said. “If that’s true, what exactly is dangerous?”
“To a SEAL?” Forrest mused. “Let’s see…. Breaking into a hostile high-security military installation to track down a pilfered nuclear warhead might be considered dangerous.”
“Might be?”
“Depends on the location of the military installation, and how well-trained that hostile military organization actually is,” he said. “Another dangerous op might be to make a HAHO jump from a plane—”
“A what?”
“HAHO,” Forrest repeated. “A high-altitude high-opening parachute jump. It’s when you get the green light to jump from the plane at about thirty thousand feet—way up high where the bad guys can’t hear the sound of your airplane approaching. You yank the cord, the chute opens and you and your squad parasail silently to the landing zone. And maybe, when you get there, you rescue fifteen hostages—all children—from a bunch of tangos who wouldn’t bat an eye over spilling the blood of innocent kids. And maybe before you can pull the kids out of there, the op goes from covert to full firefight. So you rock and roll with your HK, knowing that your body is the only thing shielding a nine-year-old from the enemy’s bullets.”
Veronica frowned. “Would you mind repeating that last bit in English? Before you can pull the kids out of there…what?”
Forrest grinned, a twinkle in his blue eyes. “The terrorists become aware of your presence and open fire. You’ve got an instant battlefield—a full firefight. You return fire with your HK—your submachine gun—scared to death because there’s a tiny little girl standing directly behind you.”
Veronica nodded. “I thought that was what you said.” She studied Admiral Forrest’s weathered face. “Are these actual operations you’re describing or merely hypothetical scenarios?”
“That’s classified information,” the old man said. “Of course, you’re a smart girl. You can probably figure out they wouldn’t be classified if they were hypothetical, right?”
Veronica was silent, digesting all he had said.
“Heads up, missy,” Forrest whispered. “Looks like this meeting’s about to start.”
“Let’s get this show on the road,” Senator McKinley said, his voice cutting above the other conversations from his seat at the head of the table. “Where the hell is Catalanotto?”
McKinley was looking directly at Veronica, as were most of the other people at the table. They honestly expected her to provide them with an answer.
“He said he’d be here,” she said calmly. “He’ll be here.” She glanced at her watch. “He’s only a few minutes late.”
Just then, West, one of the FInCOM agents, stepped through the door. “Crown Prince Tedric of Ustanzia,” he announced.
Aha. That was why Joe was late. He was coming to this meeting dressed in the prince’s clothes. The tailor had dropped off several large garment bags late this afternoon. No doubt Joe had wanted to wear one of the resplendent suits to make him look more like Tedric.
Any minute now he’d saunter into the room, wearing a garish sequined jacket and a sheepish grin.
But West stepped back and a figure appeared in the doorway.
He was dressed in gleaming white pants and a short white jacket that clung to his broad shoulders and ended at his waist. There were no sequins in sight, but plenty of medals covered his chest, along with a row of golden buttons decorated with the royal Ustanzian shield. The shield also glittered from the bejeweled ring he wore on his right hand. His gleaming black hair was combed directly back from his face.
It was Joe. It had to be Joe, didn’t it?
Veronica searched his eyes, looking for the now quite-familiar differences between Joe’s and Prince Tedric’s faces. But with his shoulders back, his head held at that haughty angle, and no sign of a smile curving his lips, Veronica wasn’t sure exactly who was standing in the doorway.
And then he spoke. “I greet you with the timeless honor and tradition of the Ustanzian flag,” he said in the prince’s unmistakable faintly British, faintly French accent, “which is woven, as well, into my heart.”
11
Nobody moved.
Everyone stared at Prince Tedric. It was Prince Tedric, not Joe. That voice, that accent…Except, what was the real prince doing here, away from the safety of his secure room on the other side of town? It didn’t make sense. And his shoulders seemed so broad….
As Veronica watched, the prince took several steps into the room with his peculiar, stiff royal gait. He walked like he had a fireplace poker in his pants, as Joe had so inelegantly described. Veronica fought the urge to giggle. This had to be the prince, indeed. About half-a-dozen dark-suited FInCOM agents followed him inside, and one of them closed the door tightly behind them.
One royal eyebrow lifted a fraction of an inch at the people still sitting at the conference table, and the Ustanzian ambassador scrambled to his feet.
“Your Highness!” he said. “I didn’t realize you’d be attending….”
McKinley stood, too. The rest of the table followed suit.
Still, as Veronica rose to her feet, she stared. This man wasn’t Joe. Or was it? Tedric had never seemed so tall, so imposing. But this couldn’t be Joe. That voice had been Tedric’s. And that walk. And that haughty look.
The prince’s gaze swept around the table. His eyes passed over Veronica without the slightest hint of familiarity, without the tiniest bit of recognition or warmth. He looked through her, not at her. No, it wasn’t Joe. Joe would have winked or smiled. And yet…
He held out a hand decorated with a huge gold and jeweled ring for the Ustanzian ambassador to bow over.
Senator McKinley cleared his throat. “Your Excellency,” he said. “It was dangerous for you to come here. I should have been informed.” He glanced at his chief aide and hissed, “Why wasn’t I informed?”
The prince affixed the senator with a very displeased stare. “I am not used to asking permission to leave my room,” he said.
He was the prince. Veronica tried to tell herself that she was now convinced of that fact, yet doubt lingered.
“But, Your Highness,” Kevin Laughton chimed in. “It’s just not safe.” He looked over at the FInCOM agents who had arrived with the prince. “I must be told of any movement.” He looked more closely at the men and a funny look crossed his face. Veronica tried to follow his gaze, to see what he saw, but he quickly looked back at the prince, his face once again expressionless.
“If there was something you needed,” Henri Freder, the Ustanzian ambassador, interjected, “all you had to do was ask, Your Highness. We will provide you with all your requests, I can assure you.”
“Sit, please, sit. Sit, sit,” the prince said impatiently.
Everyone sat. Except the prince. He stood pointedly next to Senator McKinley’s seat at the head of the table.
Rather belatedly, McKinley realized his mistake. He hastily stood and offered the prince his chair, moving around to one of the empty seats on the side of the oval table.
On the other side of the room, one of the FInCOM agents coughed. When Veronica glanced at him, he gave her a quick wink. It was Cowboy—one of the SEALs from Joe’s Alpha Squad. At least, she thought it was. She did a double take, but when she looked again, he was gone.
She turned and stared at the man who was settling himself in the now vacant chair at the head of the table. “I’ll need something to write on and a pen,” he announced to no one in
particular. “And a glass of water.”
Had she imagined Cowboy standing there? Was this really Joe, or was it Prince Tedric? Veronica honestly did not know.
Around her, all of the aides and assistants were scrambling. One of them provided the prince with a smooth white pad of paper, another with a plastic ballpoint pen that the prince simply looked at in disdain. Yes, he had to be the real prince. No one could possibly imitate that disgusted look, could they? Another assistant produced a gold-plated fountain pen, which the prince took with a nod, and yet another presented him with a tall, ice-filled glass of water.
“Thank you,” he said, and Veronica sat up.
Thank you? Those words weren’t in Tedric’s vocabulary. At least, Veronica had never heard him say them before.
Senator McKinley was giving the prince a detailed report on all that had been done over the past several days, and on the changes to the scheduled tour.
Veronica stared down the table at the man now sitting at its head. Prince Tedric never said thank-you. This man was Joe. It had to be Joe. But…he didn’t look or act or sound anything like the Joe she was starting to know so well.
The prince took a sip of his water, removed the cap from his pen.
This would prove it. Joe was left-handed; the prince only used his right.
The prince took the pen in his right hand and jotted a quick note on his pad of paper.
Oh, my God, it wasn’t Joe. It was the prince. Unless…
As the senator continued to talk, the prince tore the piece of paper from the pad and folded it neatly in half. He glanced over his shoulder and one of the aides was instantly behind him. He handed the aide the piece of paper and whispered a few words into the young man’s ear before turning back to Senator McKinley.
Veronica watched as the aide came around the table, directly toward her. The young man handed her the folded piece of paper.
“From Prince Tedric,” the aide whispered almost soundlessly in her ear.
She glanced down the table toward the prince, but he wasn’t paying her the slightest attention. He was absently twisting his ring as he listened to McKinley.
Why would Prince Tedric write her a note?
Hardly daring to breathe, she unfolded the paper.
“Hey, Ronnie,” she read, printed in big, childish block letters. “How’m I doing? Love, Prince Joe.”
Veronica laughed. Aloud. McKinley stopped talking midsentence. The entire table turned and looked at her. Including Joe, who gave her a withering look, identical to those she’d received from Prince Tedric in the past. “It’s Joe,” she said.
Nobody understood. They all just stared at her as if she’d gone mad—except Kevin Laughton, who was nodding, a small smile on his face, and Admiral Forrest, who was rocking back in his seat and chuckling.
Veronica gestured down toward the head of the table, toward Joe. “This is not Prince Tedric,” she explained. “It’s Lieutenant Catalanotto. Gentlemen, he’s fooled us all.”
Everyone started talking all at once.
The prince’s haughty expression turned into a slow, friendly smile as he gazed down the table at Veronica. His cold eyes turned warm. Oh, yes, this was definitely Joe.
“You’re amazing,” she mouthed to him. She knew he wouldn’t be able to hear her over the din, but she had no doubt he could read her lips. She wouldn’t be surprised to find there was nothing Joe Catalanotto couldn’t do, and do well.
He shrugged. “I’m a SEAL,” he mouthed back, as if that explained everything.
“I knew it was the lieutenant,” Veronica heard Kevin Laughton say. “But only because I knew three of the men who came in with him weren’t on my staff.”
“I knew it was him, too,” Senator McKinley’s loud voice boomed. “I was waiting to see when y’all would catch on.”
Still, Veronica gazed into Joe’s dark eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she silently asked.
“I did,” he answered.
And he was right. He had told her. “Don’t worry, I’ll get it,” he’d said. “I’m a pretty good mimic.”
Pretty good?
Veronica laughed. He was amazing.
Joe smiled back at her as everyone around them continued to talk at once. But they might have been alone in this room, for all the attention she paid anyone else.
That was admiration he could see in Veronica’s blue eyes. Admiration and respect. She wasn’t trying to hide it. She was sending him a message with her eyes as clear as the one she’d sent with her lips.
Joe could also see traces of the attraction she was never really able to conceal. It was always back there, lurking, waiting patiently for the moment when her defenses were down, waiting for her to temporarily forget that he wasn’t a regular of the country-club set.
And, God, he was waiting, too.
Except she wasn’t going to forget. It was only at times like this, when they were safely across the room from each other, that Veronica gazed into his eyes. It was only when she was safely out of reach that she let him drown in the swirling ocean-blueness of her eyes.
It didn’t take much to imagine what being Veronica St. John’s lover would be like, to see her with her red curls tumbled down her back, dressed only in the skimpiest of satin and lace, desire turning her sea-colored eyes to blue flames. As Joe gazed into her eyes, he felt himself going under for the third and final time.
He wanted her so desperately, he was nearly dizzy with desire. Somehow, some way, he was going to change her mind, break through that flimsy wall she’d thrown up between them.
Admiral Forrest raised his voice to be heard over the noise. “I think this meeting can be adjourned,” he said. “We can announce to the press that Prince Tedric’s tour will resume as of oh-eight-hundred hours tomorrow. Are we in agreement?”
Veronica reluctantly pulled her eyes away from the molten lava of Joe’s gaze. Her heart was pounding. Good Lord, the way that man looked at her! If they had been alone, he would have kissed her again. Or if he hadn’t, maybe she would have kissed him!
Lord save her from herself.
She shuffled the papers in front of her, attempting to regain her equilibrium as the room slowly cleared.
Senator McKinley shook her hand briefly, commending her on a job well-done before he rushed off to another appointment.
Veronica could feel Joe’s eyes still on her as he stood and talked to Admiral Forrest. The FInCOM men tried to escort them out of the room, but Joe hung back, clearly waiting for her.
Taking a deep breath, she gathered her briefcase and went to join them.
Joe was looking down at the ring on his hand. “Did you know this ring is worth more than a new car?” he mused. “And did you know old Ted has about twenty of ’em?”
Mac Forrest grinned at Veronica, slapping Joe on the back one more time as they walked down the hotel corridor. “You couldn’t tell it was Joe, could you?” Forrest asked her.
Veronica glanced up at Joe. She wasn’t prepared for the jolt of warmth and energy that surrounded her as she met his dark eyes. He was smiling at her, and she found herself smiling foolishly back, until she realized the Admiral had asked her a question. She tore her eyes away.
“No, sir, I couldn’t,” she answered hoping that she didn’t sound as breathless as she felt. “Except…”
“What?” Joe asked.
She looked up at him, bracing herself before meeting his hypnotizing eyes again. “You said ‘Thank you,”’ she replied. “Tedric wouldn’t dream of thanking a servant.”
“Well, maybe ol’ Ted’s been reading up on the American version of Miss Manners,” Joe said. “Because for the next five weeks, he’s going to be saying ‘thank you’ to all the lowly servants. And maybe even ‘please,’ every now and then.”
“That’s fine with me. I think everyone should say thank-you. I think it’s rude not to,” Veronica said.
“The equipment you ordered is coming in late tonight,” Admiral Forrest said to Joe. “It’ll be
ready for tomorrow.”
“We leave the hotel at oh-eight-hundred?” Joe asked.
Veronica dug into her briefcase and checked the schedule. “That’s right,” she said. “There’re a number of public appearances—just visual things—a chance for the news reporters to get footage of you climbing in and out of limousines and waving. Tomorrow night there’s an optional embassy function, if you feel up to it. There will be people there who know Tedric quite well, though. You’ll have to be ready to recognize them.”
“Can you recognize them?” Joe asked.
“Well, yes,” Veronica said. “Of course. But—”
“Then I’m ready,” he said with a grin.
“We’ve ordered a surveillance van,” Admiral Forrest said to her. “You’ll have the seat of honor at the main mike. Joe will wear an earphone and a microphone so the communication can go both ways. He’ll hear you and you’ll hear him. And we’ll have miniature video cameras set up, so you’ll be able to see both Joe and from Joe’s point of view.”
They stopped outside the royal suite, waiting while West went inside to make a quick security sweep. “All clear,” he said, coming back out. The entire group moved into the room.
Admiral Forrest clasped Joe’s hand again. “Good job, son.” He nodded at Veronica. “You, too, missy.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to make some status reports.” As Mac turned to leave, he shook his finger at Joe. “No more unauthorized field trips down the outside of the building,” he admonished. “No more games.” He turned to the other SEALs, Blue, Cowboy and Harvard, who were standing by the door with the FInCOM agents. “You’re on the same side as security now,” he said to them. “You make sure Lieutenant Catalanotto stays secure. Have I made myself clear?”
“I gave them liberty tonight, Admiral,” Joe interjected. “I figured—”
“You figured wrong,” Forrest said. “As of thirty minutes ago, this operation has started.”
Cowboy clearly wasn’t happy about that.
Tall, Dark and Dangerous Part 1 Page 13
