by Vanessa Kier
He stepped into the double-headed shower enclosure and turned the water on hot.
Knowing that Jamieson was watching him, knowing that his boss must be wondering if Mark had made the connection between Jamieson and his father’s death, meant he had to plan every move down to the last detail, including what he’d say should he be caught. While he knew a fair amount about computer hacking—any spy these days working among businessmen had better be prepared to steal secrets off a computer—he didn’t possess the skills necessary to break through the level of security Jamieson would have in place.
If luck was with him, though, he might not have to call for help hacking Jamieson’s computer. Over the past several days Jamieson had made it clear that he wanted Mark to take a more active role in Kerberos. He suspected it wasn’t an indication of trust, but Jamieson’s way of ensuring he’d be a viable scapegoat if the program came under scrutiny.
For now he was willing to play along. He needed concrete proof that Jamieson had ordered certain military and law enforcement men to be diverted against their will into Kaufmann’s lab, turned into enhanced soldiers, then sent on assignment by Kerberos.
And he needed to find out whether or not Faith’s brother had been among those men.
Mark hated that Faith had refused to stay at his safe house. She had no idea how uncharacteristic his offer had been. He was not good at sharing. Particularly when his safety or comfort were involved. Despite Faith being a stranger, and therefore a potential risk, his preference had actually been to bring her home with him. Which would have been far too dangerous for both of them.
Now that his attempt to keep tabs on her had failed, he couldn’t help worrying about her.
Which was another entirely new feeling.
Tomorrow he’d run a background check on Faith. If her story panned out, which he expected it would, then he’d set up their next meeting. In the meantime, he’d work on getting access to more of Kerberos’s data so he could search for her brother.
Because when they did meet again, Mark fully intended to have news for her. Without it, he knew Faith’s wariness would cause her to bolt.
And he didn’t plan on losing her.
Chapter Four
Three Days Later
On the Outskirts of Baltimore
Faith wasn’t waiting for him outside the café. She wasn’t inside, either. Mark frowned and checked his watch. Yes, he was punctual as usual. Since it was only five minutes past their agreed upon time, it was unreasonable to feel anxious that she wasn’t here.
Yet this had been a difficult week with Jamieson, and Mark was impatient to see Faith. To feel the rush of being alive and being somehow better than he knew himself to be.
He wanted to forget what he’d learned this week about Kerberos. Forget that Jamieson was drawing Mark further and further into the clandestine, illegal side of the organization. Letting him learn more about Kaufmann and his diabolical lab.
The information turned Mark’s stomach. Normally he hated to show emotion in front of others, but he couldn’t control his reaction to the tormented, bestial men that had once been proud soldiers and law enforcement officers. Since Jamieson seemed to take great pleasure in forcing Mark to have more involvement with the lab despite his reservations, he didn’t even bother hiding his revulsion. In their current game of power and intimidation, appearing weak made Jamieson trust Mark more.
Mark knew better than to assume that weakness in those around him equaled a lack of threat, but Jamieson apparently believed that as long as he was the strongest man in the game, everyone else could be manipulated to do what he wanted.
The man might have been ruthless enough to move up in rank within the CIA and cunning enough to create an illegal black ops group operating right under the noses of the intelligence community, but Mark marveled at how little Jamieson understood human psychology. He fingered the bronze, Etruscan horse in his pocket. It wasn’t the original good luck charm that had been in his father’s pocket the day he died. No, that one sat on Jamieson’s desk. Left out in the open for Mark to see on his last visit to his boss’s office.
Another move in the mind games between them. But Mark wasn’t going to lose this game. He’d thought he’d killed the man who ordered that his father be tortured to death, but now he knew that he’d been played from the very beginning. Jamieson’s possession of the horse was all the proof Mark needed to peg Jamieson as the true mastermind behind his father’s death. So he’d do whatever necessary in order to earn Jamieson’s trust and gain access to Kerberos’s secrets.
Once he possessed sufficient information to guarantee Jamieson would be arrested and his deadly organization shut down, then Mark would contact Ryker, the director of the privately run special operations group, the Surgical Strike Unit. Not too long ago, Mark had been ordered by Jamieson to discredit the SSU, in hopes of driving the organization out of business. Now the SSU had been tasked with finding and stopping those responsible for the missing service personnel and they’d become Mark’s ace in the hole for destroying Jamieson.
He gave the café another visual search. Still no Faith. Had Jamieson somehow discovered that she’d followed him to the restaurant the other night and already eliminated her? Or sent her to Kaufmann?
That possibility sent icy tendrils slithering down Mark’s spine.
Although everything he knew so far about Dr. Kaufmann’s program indicated that the scientist had no interest in experimenting on women, Mark wouldn’t put it past Jamieson to send a female to Kaufmann with instructions to let his men use her as they liked.
Mark’s fingers curled into fists. That would never happen to Faith. Not if he could help it.
He mentally shook his head. Sometime in the past few days he’d given up trying to understand why Faith mattered so much. Instead, there was a certain thrill to just letting the feeling take control.
He searched the street again. Dammit, where was she?
Had Jamieson found her? Or had she decided not to trust him after all?
But no, there she was, just stepping through the door. Despite the short black bob and light gray eyes, Mark recognized Faith instantly. Their eyes met and Mark forgot all about Jamieson and Kerberos, drowning in the warmth of her gaze. When a customer moved between them, breaking their connection, Mark stifled his annoyance and stepped to the side. He watched Faith weave between people, her head up and her focus on him. Then, as she passed the end of the counter, she glanced over at the large screen television.
Mark lost sight of her again when a couple of men in cheap suits walked into his line of sight. After the men moved away, he saw that Faith’s attention was riveted on the screen. Her stricken expression made his gut clench.
He’d almost reached her when she glanced up. Fear, then fury passed across her beautiful face before she darted into the middle of a family with two strollers containing squealing young children.
What the hell?
Mark craned his neck to see the television. A picture of a house on fire filled the screen. Oh, no. Faith’s reaction could only mean one thing. Damn Jamieson’s guards. One of them must have spotted Faith with him and been able to make an identification by facial recognition software.
He did his best to hurry after Faith, but the stroller group kept getting in his way. By the time he reached the sidewalk, all he saw of Faith was a flash of her black wig and the bright yellow of her dress as she darted down the street.
Shit. If she turned the corner he’d lose her. He burst into a run, something he never did in public. But this desperation driving him was entirely personal, and for once he didn’t care if he drew attention to himself as long as he caught up to Faith.
Luckily for him, a dog tied outside a shop decided that Faith looked like its new best friend and leapt into her path, barking happily and wagging its tail. The few seconds it took for Faith to give the mutt a reluctant pat then dodge around it allowed Mark to catch up to her.
“Faith!” He reached out and grabbe
d her arm.
She spun and took a swing at him with her fist. Mark easily avoided her blow and captured her wrist with his hand.
“Let go of me,” she snarled, “or I swear to God, I’m going to start screaming for the police, you lying bastard.”
“What is wrong with you?” he snapped.
Faith jerked against his hold. When he didn’t loosen his grip, she opened her mouth. Before she could scream, Mark placed his other hand over her lips. “Was that your house burning on the news?”
She blinked at him in surprise, then narrowed her eyes and struck at him.
Mark dropped his hand from her mouth and once again shifted to evade her blow.
“Of course that was my house, you jerk. You ordered the fire!”
With a hiss of annoyance, Mark twisted her arm, turned her away from him, and propelled her forward. “Don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t have any idea you’d been identified by Jamieson’s men until you freaked out back there.” Mark hustled Faith toward an alley that led to the back parking lot.
“Give me one good reason why I should believe you,” she snarled, struggling to break free.
“I’m not a thug. Give me some credit for being more subtle if I need to intimidate someone.”
She glanced at him askew, but at least she stopped fighting him. “That’s supposed to reassure me? I should trust you because you’re too arrogant to stoop to burning down my house?”
“Yes. Besides, why would I bother to burn down your house? You aren’t even staying there, and you don’t strike me as the type of person who’d leave her research behind. If I wanted to make sure your notes were obliterated, I’d question you until I was certain I knew all the places you’d hid copies and had discovered the names of everyone you’d talked to about the data. Then I’d eliminate you, your contacts, and the notes.”
Her eyes widened and she tugged against his hold on her arm. “So I should be grateful to you because you haven’t killed me yet?” The laugh that burst from her throat nudged at the door of hysteria.
A gust of wind blew her hair across her face and she spat it out of her mouth.
For some infernal reason, Mark found the action incredibly erotic. “Woman, you’re driving me crazy.”
Pulling Faith into the shadow between a dumpster and a large shade tree, Mark spun Faith around so that she faced him and was also out of view of anyone who might step out the back door of the retail building.
She glared up at him, fury and grief swirling in her eyes. “I hate you. I thought you were going to help me. Instead, you sold me out. I’ve gone for more than a week without any trouble. Then I meet you and the next thing I know, my house burns down. You’re a—”
Mark silenced her with a kiss. It started off hard, but quickly softened as the taste of her went straight to his head. His mouth lingered, savoring the softness of her lips as her angry retort melted into a groan of need. As soon as she sighed and relaxed against him, Mark pulled back.
He cradled her head between his hands. “I swear to you, Faith, I didn’t betray you. I haven’t told anyone that we met.”
“You put a damn tracking device in my pocket.”
Mark sighed. “To protect you. I wanted to make certain that no one followed you to wherever you were staying.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “No one but you, that is.”
For the first time in his life, Mark’s intellect was playing a tug-of-war with fiercely protective instincts he hadn’t even known he possessed. It made him want to grab Faith and shake some sense into her until she believed him. “I just want you safe, dammit.”
“Then tell me, who figured out my identity? I haven’t even been home in nine days, so no one followed me there. You can’t tell me that my house burned down by accident. Either someone hoped the fire would destroy all my notes, and maybe kill me, too, or the fire was meant as a warning.” She shivered. “I’m used to being a target, but a house fire has the potential to spread, particularly in a neighborhood like mine where the houses are close together. What if my neighbors had been hurt?”
Mark gathered her against his chest until he could rest his chin on the top of her head. His violent need to exact revenge on her behalf shocked him. The fact that she actually let him comfort her filled him with an unfamiliar glow.
“When I saw the house burning on the news, I thought maybe one of the guards had snapped a photo of you and identified you using facial recognition software,” he told her. “But on second thought, given that you were already in the car and it was dark, I don’t think that’s it. Besides,” he stroked his hand over her hair. “You were wearing a different wig the other night.”
He sighed. “I hope some day you’ll trust me enough to reveal the real you.”
Faith ignored his comment. “So, if Jamieson’s guards didn’t discover my identity, and you didn’t tell anyone, who burned down my home?”
Mark checked their surroundings. Across the parking lot a trio of young men piled into a Jeep, laughing and punching each other on the shoulder. No one else was in sight. Still, “Not here. Come home with me and we can talk this out. Or let me take you to the safe house. But we need to get someplace where we can’t be observed or overheard.”
Faith stepped away from him. Her eyes searched his face. For the first time since he’d been a small child, Mark let his expression show all the crazy emotions she stirred in him.
“Please, Faith. Let me keep you safe. Let me help you.”
After several agonizing minutes, she nodded. “Okay.”
This might just be the dumbest thing she’d ever done, Faith thought as she let herself into her room at the budget hotel chain. After taking a number of evasive actions to get here, including switching vehicles, Mark had reluctantly agreed to stay in the car while she fetched her things. What he didn’t realize was that every day she uploaded her notes to a secure server and also mailed copies of them to a postal holding service that had an account shared by her and Toby. There was very little she’d be taking with her that Mark could use against her, if she’d made a mistake and he couldn’t be trusted.
But that was the whole issue. She did trust him. Lashing out at him had been her way of dealing with the fear, grief, and sheer fury of seeing her house burning on the news. Now that she had time to think about it, the fire more likely had been set by whoever held Toby.
Faith shuddered. She hated to think of her brother being tortured, and knew that his training would help him hold out a very long time, but it wasn’t impossible to think that he’d eventually reveal that he’d sent his notes to Faith. What better first step toward destroying the evidence than burning down her house?
Too bad for them she’d already been on the run.
She pursed her lips. In that case, why hadn’t they done the same thing to Toby’s place? True, he lived in a high-rise apartment complex with top notch security. Still, even the best security would eventually fall to a determined assailant. So, was it possible that they’d only gone after Faith’s home to send her a message? Or had they already tossed Toby’s place and discovered that he really didn’t keep any notes at home?
She’d have to check the police reports for Toby’s neighborhood to see if there was any mention of his apartment being broken into or otherwise damaged. Not that he was around to report a break-in, but maybe a neighbor had noticed something odd.
Faith shoved her few toiletries into her backpack, then used one of her burner phones to access her secure voicemail box, relieved when a message confirmed that Siobahn had checked in on time.
When she called Siobahn back, the call went straight to voicemail. “Hi, Mom. It’s me,” she said, using their code phrase. “The weather here in Nassau is beautiful. Wish you were here. Tell Sissy I miss her. Love you. Bye.”
Faith told herself she was disappointed to have missed talking to her friend directly, but she knew she lied. She didn’t want to have to deal with Siobahn’s questions and concern right now.
; On her way out of the hotel, she turned off the phone and threw it in the dumpster before returning to Mark.
“Okay,” she said as she slipped into the passenger seat. “Where are we going?”
“Safe house.” He glanced sideways at her. “Jamieson is monitoring me.”
Faith’s hand twitched toward the door handle.
“Relax. I’ve got an anti-bug device in the glove box that will jam any attempt to track us electronically. By the time we get to the safe house no one will be following us and no one will recognize us.” He pulled the car out of the parking lot. “The safe house was bought under another identity buried so deep that it would take months for the CIA to tie it back to me.”
She gave him a look laden with suspicion. “You were serious before when you said that you have a private safe house?”
Mark smiled. “Absolutely. Spies don’t trust anyone. Including, and often particularly, their bosses. We’re tools. Valuable only as long as we’re useful. Disposable when there’s trouble.”
Faith wished she didn’t understand. But she’d seen too much cruelty and indifference. Experienced situations where human beings were considered nothing but expendable commodities. She imagined that’s how Jamieson, or whoever had kidnapped Toby, viewed both Faith and her brother. “I’m sorry.”
Mark shrugged. “It was my choice. I could have followed my stepfather into his import-export business. Instead, I decided I liked the thrill of outmaneuvering other spies who operate in the shadows of the business world.”
“Sounds like you have lots of interesting stories to tell.” She tilted her head. “Unless they’re all classified?”
“I’m certain I can come up with one or two I could share.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “What would I get in return?”
The gleam in his eye let her know exactly what he wanted. “I—” Her stomach gurgled loudly. She felt her cheeks heat. “Sorry.”
