“I’m sure you can, and I look forward to that, but right now you need a solid night’s sleep and a lot less alcohol in your system.”
Both of her brows arched—not angry. More intrigued. “You’re turning me down?”
“Trust me when I tell you I’m just as disappointed.”
“How gallant. But that really leaves me in a bind for tonight.”
And him, too. He gathered her in his arms and kissed her again. Her lips parted, welcoming him back. He deepened the kiss and tasted her fear and anxiety. So much had happened in the past day, and yet here she was, still trying to be the strong one. Long, elegant fingers grazed his shoulders and that gentle touch made him want her even more. Her full stomach and the bottle of alcohol, however, slowed her responses until their kiss fell away, and she rested comfortably in his arms. God, she was beautiful.
“Thanks,” she whispered. “For everything.”
Her eyes shut, her body giving in to everything the day had thrown at her. He watched her breathing and heartbeat slow into a relaxed rhythm. The rest of the night, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. She fascinated him in every way.
Stretched across the bed with one foot poking out of the covers and her arms flung wide open, she tossed, turned, and mumbled. Most of her utterances related to her guilt in killing the two men who had done something epically stupid and died because of it. She’d feel guilty no matter how many times he told her she’d had to kill them.
It surprised him that, although she was a woman who could capture the heart of any man she put her sights on, she remained alone. Perhaps she didn’t trust anyone or maybe, like Jenny, she held the love of someone in her heart. Her own family didn’t sound too welcoming, and she must have lost many kids—not only to kidnapping, but the allure of money and power in militias. Her thick, arched eyebrows painted her face with a fierce attitude and a huge dose of skepticism. The short haircut he’d created fell around her face in complete disarray. As much as he preferred longer hair on women, he couldn’t deny the effect the cut had, framing her perfect features.
She’d make a good operative in this part of the world. Deep brown hair, rich hazel eyes, and a body darkened from the sun allowed her to pass as a Columbian local. Her fluency in Spanish was impressive. If she wanted to run away from him at that moment, she’d melt into this environment seamlessly.
Dane studied her pouty lips for the longest amount of time. When used correctly, those lips could disarm the most able-bodied man. They certainly took him to the moon and back.
Hours later, he left her alone and sleeping to call his contact in Bogotá—a woman who would drop everything to be at his side when he wanted her.
“Dane O’Brien, I haven’t spoken to you in forever. What can I do for you?” Milena’s voice had always sent pulsing invitations to every part of his body, but not today. He couldn’t get the warrior in his bed out of his mind.
“I’m in need of a new identity for someone running from a cartel.”
“Of course. I assume you need this immediately.”
“The flight is in eight hours and the photo is in your inbox.”
“Easy. What’s her name?”
“Eveleen Quinn O’Brien. E.V.E.L.E.E.N.”
“O’Brien?” The deep exhalation told him he’d have to work really hard to get back in Milena’s good graces when he became single again. And yet, for now, he really didn’t care.
“She’s my wife. We married three months ago in a private ceremony in Monterey. Make sure the town records have that information. It’s already listed in San Francisco. Use my home address. She was born and raised in northern New Jersey. She also needs a degree in fashion from a community college near there.”
“Is this permanent?”
“Milena, I don’t do permanent.” And neither, he surmised, did Trista. “You should know that about me by now. Just make the docs, and within a few months, I’ll be calling you to undo all you’ve done today.”
“I can handle that.” Amusement returned to her voice. “Are you at the Hilton?”
“No, but send the docs there anyway. We’ll pick them up on the way through. Thanks. I’ll keep in touch.”
When he ended the call, he rubbed his hands over his face. He couldn’t keep Trista around too long. Part of his job was to obtain information from as many female contacts in the arms industry as possible. A job more difficult to do if they thought he was married. Besides, Trista didn’t seem the marrying type. She’d never stay put.
When she woke, they shared a quick breakfast and continued on their journey to Bogotá. The countryside disappeared as buildings and civilization rose in front of them. The farther they drove from San Stefano, the harder it became to rid his mind of the danger Jenny was in. Trista seemed to be focused elsewhere, too. Entering the city limits, her fingers brushed over his shoulder.
He clasped them in his hand. “We should only be here for a few hours before our flight. Are you okay?”
“I’m ready to leave, although I wish I wasn’t being forced out.” This was a woman used to being in control, and she was losing it by the second. Yet her instincts overall were impressive.
After he picked up Trista’s new identity at the Hilton Bogotá, they shopped for a new wardrobe for her. She needed everything. Her stuff had to remain behind in the village indefinitely.
In one of the better boutiques, she sifted through stacks of clothes, glancing at the price tags and frowning. This would take seven years if she tried to penny pinch. Grabbing an armful of dresses and a few sexy suits, he set them in a dressing room. “Try these on. If something fits, take it. I don’t have time for you to analyze everything you choose. Buy some warm things, too. It snowed in London last night.”
“Can you afford all of this on your salary?”
“It’s rude to ask a person about their wealth.”
“Not when he’s my husband. I should know if I married well.”
“You married well enough that you don’t need to worry about how much your husband makes.” He’d earned a fortune in technology stock over the years, additional compensation from his private employer added onto his government salary and benefits. Most of it was squirreled away for when he retired, or sooner if he had to disappear in a rush.
They arrived at the airport with her new wardrobe of clothes, shoes, and toiletries packed in her new Louis Vuitton suitcase. In the first class lounge, he ordered a bottle of wine and poured them each a glass.
“Don’t forget, you were born in a small town in New Jersey. And your maiden name is Quinn. Your parents didn’t have a lot of money, so you went to a community college for a degree in fashion.”
“So my degree in economics from Barnard should be forgotten?”
“Exactly.” A little Ivy fit her personality. She acted like she’d grown up in a wealthy family.
With one hand wrapped around her wineglass in a protective hold, she glanced down at her pocketbook and frowned. “How are you going to change my entire past?”
“It’s already done. I know a few people in the right places. Don’t worry about the documents—they’re real. You need to think of yourself as Eve, not Trista. Seriously, if you don’t start imagining yourself as Eve, you’ll make a mistake and all this work will be for nothing. As of this moment, I’ll try to never mention her again.”
Chapter Five
Fourteen hours in a series of airplanes with Dane provided deep insight into his personality. Eve, the woman formerly known as Trista, followed him through three airports, watched him locate her lost luggage in Germany, and listened to him argue with natives in at least three languages. Not fluently, but he could make his issues clear enough to obtain a decent resolution to his problems.
From the moment they boarded the plane in Bogotá, Dane had stopped calling her Trista. It was as if he’d only known her as Eve. Eve was sort of a stranger to her, and sometimes she slipped back into her New York pedigree. Obviously Dane had never dated a woman from that part of
the world, because his concern for her, at times, bordered on smothering. She couldn’t move more than two feet away from him without his arm corralling her back to his side, hyper-protective. She didn’t want protection, but having a hot escort was nice.
Work in international aid groups required her to focus on her mission of reaching out to local leaders and assisting the children to secure a decent future. Her love life, by necessity, had to be secondary. Dane, however, had charmed her from South America to Europe. He flirted with her in an airport restaurant, and fell asleep on an airplane with his arm over her shoulder and his breath blowing a minty sweet scent in her direction.
His life was probably full of women who wanted to bask in his devotion. Women who would be pissed off to find that he was married, even if it was only a fictional marriage. She tried to keep some distance from him to avoid entangling her heart in something that couldn’t last. Their jobs were in separate worlds and on separate continents.
Yet, the more she learned about Dane, the more she liked him. They shared an appreciation for horror films, a love of tequila, and a need to keep moving. He’d grown up in the East Coast, close to where her fictional persona had been born. He’d graduated from MIT, majoring in political science, which was really strange. Why not engineering or math? Was he pulling her leg? Did MIT even have a political science major? She found herself obsessing over his past and a bit of his future, too, something she’d never done with any of the other men in her life.
“Dolphin House,” Dane called to the taxi driver.
“Is that our hotel?” She hadn’t been to London in about five years and didn’t recognize the neighborhood.
“More like an upscale furnished apartment. I prefer space over cachet, and I thought you’d like more of an apartment for the next few weeks.”
“How long will you be here?”
His arm draped over her shoulder, and she curled into the warmth of his chest, enjoying the benefits of a temporary husband. “I have one person to meet. After that, I should head back to work in a few days, but I’ll leave you with enough money for a few months, plenty of time to start over.”
Start over again? “I’m not starting over. I thought we were reassessing my need for an alias in a few weeks?”
“I always assume the worst, and plan from there.” The cab pulled to the curb. He clasped her hand to escort her inside while a doorman saw to the luggage.
“I’m going to be an optimist about this. You handle whatever deal you made with Juan Carlos and make him happy. In a few weeks, he’ll probably have another cartel to worry about instead of me. I’ll contact Jenny to check on her and the kids and then make arrangements to transfer to Africa. Uganda has a high need for aid workers.”
Dane didn’t respond.
“That won’t be a problem, will it?” she added.
“Let’s get through this week before you start contacting anyone from your past.”
Her stomach twisted. If this ordeal didn’t end with Jenny mailing her passport to her, what could she do? She’d have to go to the embassy and try to explain how she ended up in London without her passport. And if she had to remain Eve, what exactly was the fashion design major of Dane’s imagination qualified to do? Perhaps Eve O’Brien could become interested in human rights instead of clothes. She’d have to start out as an assistant again, but she’d progress quickly through the ranks. She could cover regions where no one had met her alter ego. The knot loosened in her stomach. It was at least a preliminary plan. No matter what, she’d be able to continue her work.
Dolphin House seemed very comfortable and offered a central location near Westminster and full room service. She moved her things into the smaller of the two bedrooms for a bit of privacy, after everything she’d been through. They’d have plenty of time together over the next few days.
She unpacked her bags, yet her thoughts traveled back to San Stefano and Jenny. Was she okay? Did someone take in Natalia? Would she be able to continue her schooling now that she was an orphan? A lump thickened in her throat as she thought about everything the girl had lost. Eve couldn’t complain at all in comparison.
Within ten minutes, Dane was knocking on her door.
She opened the door to the welcome sight of her gorgeous husband smiling at her. Maybe she could take his advice and delay her search for a new job to enjoy some masculine company.
As though he could read her thoughts, he pulled her into his arms. “Do you need anything?”
“I’m hungry.”
“Me, too.” He bent down and kissed her. “Want anything else? A bottle of soda? Maybe a chocolate bar?”
“I’d love some beer and a pizza. Sausage and red pepper, if they have it. I haven’t had anything decent since before we left Columbia.”
“Your wish is my command. We can hang out and watch a movie.”
“Sure. I’m not tired at all,” she lied.
He winked one of his soul-piercing eyes at her, then turned and left the flat.
What would it be like to be his girlfriend, with all that sex appeal directed at her all the time? Probably overwhelming. This short term marriage suited her perfectly. In a few weeks she’d be begging to get back to the field, but for now, she could live out a domestic fantasy without any permanency holding her back from her dreams.
After the hottest, most relaxing shower ever, she changed into a loose pink T-shirt and a new pair of jeans. She flopped on the couch and turned on the television. Dane needed to hurry up, because her stomach rumbled for food. Two yawns later, she nodded off. The sound of the front door closing woke her.
“About time. I’m ravenous.” She stretched her arms and leaned her head against the armrest.
No one answered.
“Come on, husband. I need food.”
Heavy footsteps treaded across the foyer. Whoever it was had none of Dane’s ease and sophistication.
Her instincts moved her from relaxed to high alert before he reached the couch. Not here. No more violence. But the large man wasn’t leaving, and he wasn’t exactly introducing himself. She held still and looked for a weapon she could use to defend herself. Anything. But nothing was in arm’s reach. It wouldn’t matter. The man who approached her wouldn’t be knocked down by a television remote. He was a friggin’ monster.
The giant sported a military crew cut, huge muscles encased in a tight black sweater, and a seriously pissed-off face. She swallowed the fear threatening to spew all over the furniture and slipped on her “bored with the potentially dangerous guy” face, developed after years of working in the roughest areas in the globe.
“Honey,” she drawled, “if you aren’t packing a pizza and some Bud Light, I suggest you find a more welcoming room.”
The man stalked over to the couch and stared at her with a tight brow and a scowl that made his nose flare. He hovered above her, probably expecting her to cower. Instead, she stood and tried to push him away. He didn’t budge, so they ended up nose to nose in a battle of wills.
“Where’s Dane?” he growled.
Shit. He knew Dane. And it didn’t sound like he was excited to see him.
“Dane? You’re in the wrong place. Your boyfriend’s probably down the hall waiting for you with a warm bath and a glass of Chablis.”
The guy grinned and appeared all the scarier because of it. “I want a piece of Dane’s arse to kick from here to Mars. I’ll leave any other activities to you, Eve.”
Eve’s heart was thumping uncomfortably, and her stomach squeezed with tension. Holy crap. This guy was going to hurt Dane. And she was the only one in the room. And he knew her new name. Would he hurt her, too? She didn’t want to stick around and find out. She lifted her knee up as high and fast as she could toward his groin. The bastard blocked it before she could make him sing.
He grinned again.
Her second shot involved swinging both arms toward his face. One of his huge hands somehow captured both of her wrists, and he pushed her back onto the couch. Instead of rest
ing, she bent backward and flipped over the couch, tucking into a roll to avoid smashing her head on the ground. She sprinted to the front door as Dane walked in with the pizza. She tried to shove him back out the door, but he, too, stood his ground like a brick wall. His free arm latched around her waist.
“Whoa. Where are you going?” His voice calm and content, then his gaze shifted over her shoulder.
He must have seen the monster, because his expression fell from playful to serious. He didn’t back away, however. Instead, he shifted her to the right, shut the door, and then placed the bag with, hopefully, beer in it on the ground. Without any trace of fear in his face or actions, he tossed the pizza box on the table.
“Simon. What a surprise. I thought we were meeting tomorrow.”
Who the hell was Simon, and why wasn’t Dane reaching for his gun?
As Dane spoke to the intruder, she slipped into the kitchen and found the largest knife in the place—to cut the pizza and for protection. Even if Dane knew this guy, she didn’t feel safe anymore. Something in her gut and her brain and the part that urged her to swing at the stranger told her she’d entered a situation not as black and white as she’d imagined. Simon scared the hell out of her.
And what did she actually know about Dane? Not much. She grabbed two plates and walked to the table to begin serving, sending a message to the guy that he wasn’t invited.
The massive badass dressed in black stormed toward Dane. “Who gave you permission to use my name in Columbia?”
“I needed to get out of a sticky situation. It was my only option.” Dane shrugged, and then grabbed three beers from the bag and handed one to Eve and one to Simon. He opened his and took a huge swig.
“Unless you’re willing to change careers permanently, don’t ever involve me in one of your schemes.” Simon eyed the beer bottle in his hand and then sighed. His scowl melted enough to reveal how handsome he was when he wasn’t in intimidation mode.
“Like you’ve never set me up.” Dane laughed at Simon as though he had a force field that would keep the monster at bay.
True Peril Page 5
