by Mona Ingram
“Let’s sit for a moment.” She tied her horse to a nearby tree and sat down unceremoniously, draping her arms over bent knees. He copied her position, watching her expectantly.
“One question,” she blurted, turning to him. “Why do you want me to pose as your fiancée. Why not introduce me as your girlfriend? It would be so much simpler.”
He studied her silently for a moment, a range of emotions flickering across his face. “Mostly out of respect for you.”
She gazed across the valley as the morning mists curled upward, evaporating under the heat of the sun. His answer took her by surprise and she sucked in a deep breath. “Do you still want me?”
The words hung between them like an unexploded bomb.
“Absolutely.”
Olivia avoided his eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“Yes, I know what you mean, but I’m wondering why you decided to do it.”
“Does it matter?” She looked at him levelly.
“I suppose not.” His eyes searched her face, lingering on her lips for a tantalizing moment. “At the risk of angering you, I think that now would be a good time to go over the rules.”
So much for hearts and flowers. “Aha,” she said. “The Rules. That rather takes the romance out of it, wouldn’t you agree?”
He chuckled softly. The sound was like dark, liquid velvet. “That’s up to you, Olivia, but we both have to know where we stand.”
“Well yes, of course.” She bristled slightly. What had she expected? Happily ever after? After all, she had her own agenda now. She needed to get a grip. “So what did you have in mind?”
“I’ll be introducing you as my fiancée. If anyone asks, we met in Scotland and I’ve been pursuing you ever since.”
A small smile flirted with her lips and she nodded her head. “That’s such a ridiculous story, people just might believe it.”
“And we’ll have to sleep together. After all, if we’re engaged…”
She couldn’t believe her ears. “Let me get this straight. Not only do you expect me to open doors for you, but you expect me to sleep with you as well?”
“A poor choice of words.” He seemed to be enjoying himself. “We have to at least occupy the same suite or our cover story will be blown.” His voice lowered. “Ideally, we should sleep in the same bed, but I suppose that’s too much to expect on such a short acquaintance.” He stood up, towering over her.
Olivia jumped to her feet. “You know, I thought I could get to like you, but you’re just another cocky American, aren’t you?” She walked a few steps down the hill, then turned back to him, shaking her head. “I was insane to think that this would work. For a moment there I actually thought I might enjoy your company.” She stopped abruptly, surprised at the words that had just come out of her mouth. Why was she speaking so openly to this infuriating stranger?
A gust of wind blew her hair forward, into her eyes. Reaching out, he raked his fingers though it, tucking a piece behind her ear. “I shouldn’t have teased you, Olivia. I’m sorry.”
Her rage subsided and was replaced immediately by a stab of disappointment. “You were teasing?” A fluttering sensation settled in the pit of her stomach as his fingers brushed her cheek.
He nodded, looking at her as though seeing her for the first time. “You know, I didn’t expect you to be so attractive.” His voice was raspy with emotion and he stood up, seemingly engrossed by the activity in the hayfield far below.
Olivia’s mind reeled. Either he was genuinely sorry, or he was an excellent actor. “Is it too late to hear the rules?”
He didn’t answer for a full minute, and she wondered if he’d changed his mind. When he spoke, his voice was flat. “The most important rule is that I can’t fall in love with you.”
Biting back the sharp retort that sprang to her lips, she spoke to his broad back. “Sorry to disillusion you cowboy, but I don’t want you to fall in love with me.”
His response came back quickly. “Good, because no matter how I may act toward you in public, I need you to remember that.” He sat down again, his expression devoid of emotion.
“Okay, but I’m not sure I understand.” She really didn’t.
He picked up a small pebble, examined it then tossed it aside. “Because high stakes poker can be exhausting and I’ll need every scrap of energy to focus on the games. I can’t do that if I get involved.”
Olivia’s throat closed up, and she hoped that her disappointment didn’t show on her face. She tossed her head, tried to appear casual. “So that speech you made earlier was all a come-on?”
“And which speech would that be?”
“The one about sex being optional.” She couldn’t believe she’d just said that!
“Ah, that speech.” His face came alive again. “Nothing’s changed in that department, but it would have to be your idea. Even then, you need to know that I won’t fall in love with you.” His jaw tightened. “I can’t.”
She nodded slowly. “I think I get the picture.” Her voice sounded hollow. “When do you want to leave, and where are we going?”
“I leave for London late this afternoon. Can you be there the day after tomorrow?” His tone was surprisingly businesslike. “I’ll be at the Dorchester. Call and let me know when you’re arriving.”
Olivia thought quickly. That would give her time to plan her wardrobe and enjoy a nice long visit with Justine. “That’s fine,” she said, standing up and brushing off her trousers.
Josh unfolded himself and stood up. His jeans clung to him in all the right places and for an insane moment she wondered what he would look like naked. He turned to her, and she dragged her eyes away from the sinewy muscles of his thighs.
“I thought we’d try Monte Carlo first. Then perhaps Marbella. That is, unless you have any other suggestions?” He hovered over her, blocking out the sun.
“That sounds good. I know people in both places.” She was having difficulty breathing, with him standing so close.
“I thought you might.” He reached out and brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek. The caress was so delicate, so gentle she might have imagined it. “You really are a beautiful woman,” he said huskily. “Thank you for agreeing to go with me.”
Olivia’s knees threatened to buckle, but she managed to remain upright. She lifted her chin.
“Alex said he would trust you with his life.” Her gaze didn’t waver.
He looked deeply into her eyes. “You can too,” he said, his voice barely audible. “You have my word on it.”
Olivia nodded, wondering how he would react if she’d told him what she really felt. That it wasn’t her life she was worried about – it was her heart.
* * *
“And that was it?” Justine’s voice rose. “You agreed to go with him after what Alex told you?”
Olivia slid off the bed where Justine was still recovering from a bout of flu. She wandered over to the window. “Yes, I did.” She ran her fingertips over her cheek, recalling Josh’s delicate touch. “There’s something about him, Justine. He’s…oh I don’t know what it is precisely, but I trust him.” She turned back to the bed. “I also sense a deep sadness in him. He tries to hide it, but a couple of times…” She shook her head.
Justine pulled up the duvet and lay back on the pillows, watching her friend through eyes that were half closed. “I hope you know what you’re doing. You say you’re going because you feel there might be a story there but are you sure you’re not kidding yourself about that? So what if you have a good time? At least you know where you stand and he’s certainly easy on the eyes.”
“He is rather delicious, isn’t he?” Olivia smiled. “And the air around him crackles with excitement. At the very least I can write a story about a rich American gambling his way through some of the most exclusive clubs in Europe.”
Justine looked at her friend, suddenly serious. “I want you to promise me one thing, Liv.” She frowned. “No, two things. Promise me you’ll enjo
y yourself. Lord knows, you’ve earned a holiday. Have fun.”
“And the second thing?” She knew what was coming.
“Remember what he said. Don’t fall in love.”
For a brief moment it was as if Josh was in the room with them, waiting for her response. “Don’t worry,” she said. “Falling in love is the last thing I’ll be doing on this trip.”
Chapter Three
Josh made his way unerringly through the warren of streets surrounding Covent Garden, dodging the ever-present throngs of tourists and kamikaze bicycle couriers. He slipped into a small side street and made his way to an unremarkable old building, the granite façade stained and pitted by decades of London smog. Speaking into the intercom he announced himself, aware that he was being scrutinized over the high-tech surveillance camera. The procedure was repeated in the foyer and he was admitted to the headquarters of IATO, the elite international anti-terrorism organization.
“Hello Colin.” He shook hands with the head of British Operations. “Good to see you again.”
“Welcome back.” The Englishman’s piercing green eyes seemed to see right through him. “The team is waiting for us in the conference room.” The wall slid silently open, and three heads turned in unison.
“Hello Sir.” A tall black man sprang up, a smile of greeting on his face. “Thank you for requesting me for this assignment.”
Josh clapped him affectionately on the shoulder. “Hello, A.J.” A member of his former team, the pilot’s skill with helicopters was unmatched. He, more than anyone, knew how important the mission was to Josh.
Josh turned to greet the two remaining men at the table.
David Miron, an intelligence officer with Mossad nodded hello, his dark, penetrating eyes signaling acceptance. The third man rose, his movements assured. “Glad to have you on board,” he intoned smoothly, his firm handshake across the table a mere hint of the strength hidden beneath the elegantly cut jacket. Josh recognized Dirk Grant, sensing immediately that the stories he’d heard about the legendary SAS agent had their basis in fact. Each of the men at the table had been on more dangerous missions, had seen more horror than any group of men should have to witness in a lifetime. Theirs was a deadly business. Josh had lived with that knowledge ever since he joined the Special Forces anti-terrorism unit many years ago, but nothing had prepared him for the searing anger that changed his life when the senseless destruction of terrorists touched him personally. He took a chair next to A.J. and settled in for the briefing.
Colin strode to the head of the table, tapping a gold pen in the palm of his left hand. “All right gentlemen. I don’t have to tell you that the market in illegal small arms has grown by leaps and bounds in the past ten years.” His eyes rested on Josh and Dirk. “Even those of you who are no longer on active duty will know that after the breakup of the former Soviet Union, arms dealers–and I’m speaking mainly of the middlemen–became billionaires practically overnight. We simply can’t police it all.” His eyes met Josh’s. “Good men are killed every day. That’s why this organization was formed. We have the silent backing of our various governments for the key aspects of our operations; financial, technical, and intelligence. However we operate without the political constraints that hobble too many other efforts.” He paused, making eye contact with each person in the room. “Do I make myself clear?” They nodded as one. “Right, then,” he continued. “Since this is the first time we’ve met as a team, I’ll review the mission. Some of you may have heard this before but bear with me.” A smile flirted with his eyes. “We all need to be on the same page, as you Americans are so fond of saying.”
“With the threat of terrorism sweeping across our borders like a plague one thing has become startlingly clear. Small arms are responsible for many more deaths than larger weaponry. Forget what you’ve heard about ‘loose nukes’. Our young men and women are being killed at an alarming rate at the hands of terrorists armed with RPGs, AK-47 assault rifles, explosives and more recently shoulder-fired heat seeking missiles.” He glanced down at a thin stack of files on the table in front of him.
“Since the end of the Cold War, the profile of the arms broker has changed. More often than not, he’s a businessman. His motives are anything but political. He’s in it for the money, and he profits by taking advantage of the loopholes in the compromised regulations of many countries. He is familiar with international banking, he is able to arrange covert transportation, and he relies heavily on personal contacts.”
Sliding the files down either side of the table he continued talking. “Rather than cast a broad net, this mission will focus on one man. Thanks to the unparalleled intelligence gathering efforts of Mossad, David has worked up a rather decent profile of the man we believe is responsible for selling massive amounts of arms to the re-emerging Taliban, as well as to Al-Qaeda. This man deals mainly in RPGs and Semtex, but he’ll broker anything. Our sources inform us that his success is due in large part to his impeccable paperwork. His organization provides the all-important ‘end user certificate’ that enables the shipment of arms.” Opening the file, his eyes hardened as he glanced at the picture clipped inside. “Gentleman, meet Jiri Blazek. We need to stop this man. He has defied our best efforts to prove that his activities are illegal. So we’re going to put him out of business by using his strengths against him.” He stabbed a finger at the photograph. “We intend to expose him, discredit him. His entire network is built on personal contacts and his ability to operate discreetly. Potential buyers seek him out at the gaming tables in Monte Carlo, or at private clubs in Marbella. By the time we’ve finished with Mr. Blazek, his buyers will disappear faster than a drop of rain in the Sahara.”
He closed the file and raised his eyes. “While conducting his research, David came across a critical piece of information. He discovered that Blazek’s daughter Eliska attended an exclusive girl’s school in Switzerland in her teens. While there, she roomed with Olivia MacMillan, daughter of Martin MacMillan, a respected London financier. Olivia MacMillan is the only person we know who has had social contact with a member of the family. Some years back, she was invited inside the family compound in the Costa del Sol.”
The three men listened intently and Josh watched them absorb this information.
“Right, then,” Colin continued. “Fast forward to the present. Blazek runs an import/export business as a cover. It’s so predictable, it’s inspired. He keeps a suite of offices near a marina in Marbella and our surveillance indicates that he also spends several hours a day at his home office. That’s where we hope to find what we need to put him out of business.” He paused dramatically. “And that, gentlemen, leads us to Josh Morgan.”
“Josh has recently made contact with Miss MacMillan and convinced her to travel with him to Monte Carlo, posing as his fiancée. Blazek’s agents frequent the casino there, acting as front men. They screen everyone who does business with him. This is where Josh will make contact. Then, if all goes according to plan, Josh and Miss MacMillan will proceed to the Costa del Sol. That’s where Blazek spends most of his time, and where we hope to destroy him. Miss MacMillan will be our admission ticket to the compound, on the outskirts of Marbella.”
“Excuse me, Colin.” Dirk Grant looked from Colin to Josh. “Does the young lady know about our mission?”
Colin looked at Josh, nodding to indicate that he should respond.
Josh leaned forward. “Colin and I have discussed it, and we’ve determined that she shouldn’t be told unless it’s absolutely necessary. It was a difficult decision to make, but we both think it’s the right one.”
Dirk eased back in his chair. “I agree, but how did you talk her into posing as your fiancée?”
Josh gave a wry grin. ‘”I’d like to say that it was a slam dunk, but to be candid, the timing was perfect. One of her best friends just got engaged, and I think she was feeling a little left out. Fortunately, she has no illusions about a romantic involvement.” He locked eyes with the SAS agent. “Don’
t worry. I’ll treat her with respect. I’ll even try to ensure that she has a good time.”
“Fair enough.” The British agent knew better than to probe further.
The meeting progressed swiftly, with Colin outlining the duties of each team member. Every man at the table had been chosen with care for his special skills in covert operations. As head of the team, Colin’s main focus would be co-ordination. David would continue gathering intelligence; specifically tracking suspect arms shipments. Shadowing Josh and Olivia from one location to another, Dirk’s role would be that of an extra pair of eyes and ears as well as providing physical back-up. A.J., a skilled helicopter pilot, would be stationed on board a British frigate, conveniently on maneuvers in the Mediterranean. Cleared to operate the British Lynx helicopter, his role was to stand by in case of emergency.
“Well, there you have it.” Colin permitted himself a small smile. “Are there any other questions?” The team members glanced around the table, each one seemingly satisfied. “Right, then. When the mission is completed, we disappear from the scene, leaving no trace. Best of all, there will be one less arms dealer. Good luck, men.”
Josh took one last look at the face of the man he planned to ruin before handing the file back to Colin. It was not a face he would soon forget. He left the building and wandered for a few blocks before realizing that he wasn’t absorbing anything around him. He flagged a cab, instructed the driver to take him to the Dorchester, and then sank back onto the seat as the London traffic streamed past the windows.
