Vanessa should be safe, but most of the people in tuxedos and cocktail dresses were strangers to him. New Dawn attackers could lurk in alcoves and shadowed corners and in the mock-ups of tombs and tribal dwellings.
The idea turned his gut to ice.
At the outset, ATSA’s idea of setting Vanessa up as bait had seemed like a good idea, but no more. He wouldn’t let her out of his sight. He’d stifle the sizzle she ignited in his blood. Maybe his discarded military instincts would kick in, and he’d spot trouble in advance.
A thin-faced man scowled past them as he leaned against a marble column. Nondescript, fit but not too tall, the type not to be suspected or noticed. The man shifted on his feet. He was sweating. A bulge in his tux jacket raised Nick’s hackles.
The guards had missed this one.
Nick looked around for a likely ATSA operative.
“Sweetie, the line took forever. I’m sorry.” A brunette rushed up to the nervous man. She carried two glasses.
He slipped a clutch purse from beneath his jacket and traded it for his drink. Guzzling the whiskey or bourbon, he nearly drained the glass. No terrorist. Only a harried alcoholic embarrassed to hold his wife’s purse.
Vanessa hooked her arm in Nick’s. “I saw him, too. Relax.”
He rubbed his neck. Maybe he was overanxious. Had he lost the battle-proofing his SF training had instilled in him?
He noticed that her razzle-dazzle appearance wasn’t her only change for the evening. The cool alertness in her eyes reminded him she was an experienced government operative. She surveyed, scanned, scrutinized the room. A look he knew.
That of a soldier on patrol.
He recognized as an ATSA operative the waiter who approached with a tray of champagne cocktails. They were to accept drinks only from his tray.
Nick appropriated two glasses. He managed not to curl his nose in distaste. “Scotch next time if you can manage it.” Although watered wine wouldn’t dull his edge.
He handed Vanessa a glass. “Time to mingle. I see Dwight Wickham back there by the statue of the two-headed god. He’s being two-headed about buying Markos Imports. Maybe your lovely smile will convince him. Ready to dazzle?”
“I’ll do my best.” Bobbling her diamond pendant at him, she enveloped him in her warm smile.
Wickham had to be dazzled. He sure as hell was.
Polite chitchat, a little politics and some horse-trading zigzagged them around the room for the next hour. He garnered more prospects for buying the shop, nibbles but no bites. Men ogled the woman on his arm, but none attacked her.
What would New Dawn try?
What were they waiting for?
He worked his jaw as Vanessa herded him into the adjacent gallery to view the Yamari exhibit.
The tiny kingdom of Yamar had spawned the isolationist, extremist New Dawn Warriors. The former king and his son, both Western-educated, and the new regime embraced an open policy. But that didn’t mean the government didn’t contain New Dawn moles, even among the Yamari diplomats on hand tonight.
Nick would keep Vanessa by his side. They turned to the right to make a circuit of the displays. Two swarthy men followed them as they looked at the first exhibit. When Nick spotted three of their regular ATSA surveillance team closing in, relief blunted a spike of nerves.
“I read about this exhibition in the Post,” she said, peering at a stone bust labeled “Goddess of Victory.” “Two thousand B.C.E. Ye gods. Yamari culture is as old as Mesopotamia. Odd that none of Alexei’s transactions listed Yamari antiquities.”
“Maybe old Husam’s ethics don’t let him trash his own country.” Like hell. He probably sold those off first.
The next display was a miniature of an excavated village, with the temple where the goddess statue had been found. Nick only glanced at the description plaque. Concentrating on it would distract him from shielding Vanessa.
She read the next plaque and oohed and aahed over gold beads in a marble jewelry box. Then he noted her head tilted to keep an eye on their shadows. There was that soldier look again. He reminded himself she knew what she was doing.
But he wouldn’t relax.
“Can it be coincidence the museum decided to showcase the homeland of Husam Al-Din at the same time we’re trying to capture him?” He didn’t believe in coincidences.
“I think the current interest in Yamar stems from the recent political changes there. The king’s abdication in favor of an elected government intrigues Americans.”
Nick had understood their mission, but the magnitude of capturing the fanatical leader hit harder now.
“Husam Al-Din must want to squash the fledgling democracy. That’s why he’s hot for so much money. His attack on Veterans Day must strike at the heart of democracy.”
“All the threads are woven together. No coincidences.” Her eyes were solemn as she took his arm again. “Other ATSA units are working on identifying probable terror targets. Al-Din is our mission. We have to trap him.”
“We will.”
Her incandescent eyes glowed with fervor and dedication. She was no pampered, shallow princess like the jet-set partyers he knew. Including Danielle.
Vanessa could play his fiancée’s—ex-fiancée’s part convincingly, yet they were nothing alike.
It was the difference between fire and ice.
From her fiery mane to her loyal and passionate heart, she was flame. He burned to touch her again, intimately, in every way a man could touch a woman.
Willing away the lust that shot through him, he lifted her hand to his lips.
The light kiss would have to do.
By the time they’d finished the Yamari gallery, Nick had glared a warning at every man who eyed Vanessa or who wouldn’t meet his gaze. Tension burrowed a headache into his temple.
“There’s a man beckoning to you at the exit,” Vanessa said. “Who is he?”
Nick braced himself. “A wily fox. Honey, hold tight to your purse.”
Chapter 7
“Ah, Markos,” said Abdul Nadim, ebony eyes twinkling with humor in his leathery face, “here are some people you should meet if you want to forge new connections for Markos Imports.”
Two Middle Eastern men and a woman stood to one side, waiting with guarded interest, unlike the enthusiastic Nadim.
Nick shook hands with the ebullient Arab-American. The barrel-chested entrepreneur was up to something. “I’m honored to meet your friends, Nadim, but you know I plan to sell the business, not expand it.”
The other man wagged his head from side to side. “We shall see. We shall see.”
Introductions followed rank.
Prince Amir Ben Rashid Qasim was the eldest son of the former King Fadil. Tall and fit-looking, he wore a Western-style tuxedo, as did Nadim. His penetrating eyes gazed down his hawk nose at Vanessa with avid interest.
Nick shook hands, but kept his other arm at Vanessa’s waist. So the prince thought he was a damn ladies’ man. Not with her he wasn’t. Anger spurted heat beneath Nick’s collar.
The second man was the Yamari ambassador to the United States. Fiftyish and compact in a gold-trimmed abaya over his black business suit, Lufti Khalil looked the part of the distinguished, respected diplomat. He’d been runner-up to the newly elected president of Yamar.
Nick greeted the ambassador, then turned to the prince. “Your country fills the news lately, your highness. How’s the government transition going?”
A wide smile brightened the young prince’s somber features. “The transition is gaining speed like a train leaving the station. My father is happy in retirement,” he said in clipped British-educated tones.
The prince must’ve looked forward to his turn to rule. Nick smiled to take the edge off a question that could be considered rude. “And you? Are you adjusting?”
“I am pleased. Being my country’s economic envoy gives me the opportunity to bring more prosperity to my people. And the opportunity to meet such lovely ladies as Ms. LeBec.” He bowed h
is head slightly and flashed Vanessa a toothy smile.
“You flatter me, your highness,” she replied warmly.
The jerk’s come-on was older than the Great Pyramid and about as pointed. But the telltale apricot blush on her cheekbones told Nick the hokey line had had its intended effect.
His headache pounded. M-16 rounds ricocheted around his skull. He refocused as Nadim introduced the bright-eyed, older woman in a modest tunic and trousers. She was Khalil’s wife, Dr. Kamilah Sharifah, a pediatrician.
“I am so honored to meet you, Dr. Sharifah,” Vanessa said. “A friend has told me of your important work in your country with the poor and with orphans.”
The Yamari woman inclined her head modestly. “You are too kind, Ms. LeBec. But I do not work alone. The more people who know of the plight of our poor—we have so many refugees—the more assistance we receive. Perhaps your magazine would like an interview.”
Vanessa smiled. “Adorn is a fashion magazine, but I’ll see what we can work out. Thank you for your generous offer.”
“As intelligent and diplomatic as she is beautiful,” Prince Amir said, his dark eyes skimming Vanessa’s curves. “My compliments, Mr. Markos.”
Nick didn’t trust the smug bastard, but he stretched his lips into a tight smile.
The prince bowed slightly to Vanessa. “You must join me for dinner one evening. I would be pleased to offer Yamari hospitality.”
Vanessa began to reply, but Nick cut her off, pulling her closer to his side. “You are too kind, your highness. We’ll have to check our calendars.”
Sucking in his cheeks at the reprimand, Prince Amir nodded. Ambassador Khalil cleared his throat as the prince turned to speak to one of the Yamari aides standing by.
Nick took the opportunity to slip away, but not before Nadim had coerced him into a business lunch with Khalil and the prince.
“The snake,” Nick muttered as he hustled Vanessa back to the great hall. “He thought he could slither right in.”
Vanessa cocked her head at him, the movement bouncing the curls on top of her head. A few strands had come loose, and his fingers itched to caress their springy softness. “Do you mean Mr. Nadim? I thought he was trying to help. An infusion of new imports would boost the shop’s sales until you can sell.”
“Not Nadim. He merely wants a piece of the profits.”
“The prince? He was just being gracious.”
She wasn’t that oblivious, was she? “Gracious, my ass. Prince Smarmy was coming on to you.”
She shook her head. “Meaningless. With Amir’s reputation, flirting is expected. With any woman he meets.”
Forgoing the Scotch, he accepted the club soda Vanessa lifted from the ATSA waiter’s tray. Away from the Yamari delegation, he began to cool down. The M-16 bursts dulled to a low throb. What the hell was wrong with him? Letting the prince’s ogling needle him. Wanting to punch the man.
Nick was acting as if Amir had hit on his real fiancée. Must be the headache.
When he noticed Vanessa studying him, he kissed her lightly. “Forgive me. Chalk up my reaction to method acting.”
“Nicolas Markos, good evening.” A stunning blonde in black sequins stepped from a laughing group to greet them.
He’d tried to prepare himself for this encounter, but seeing her skewered him with shame.
Here was the woman Alexei had tried to murder twice.
Vanessa placed her hand on Nick’s forearm.
He covered it with his. How did she always know?
“Ms. Rossiter,” he said.
“It’s Ms. Stratton now. I was married in September. But call me Laura.”
The scoop neckline of her dress in no way concealed the still livid knife scars on her neck. She held her head high as though proud to display badges of courage. Which they were.
“Congratulations.” He dragged his gaze from her scars.
The two women knew each other, but in case New Dawn was watching, he introduced them. “Danielle, Laura’s one of the curators of the Washington Cultural Museum. She organized the Yamari exhibit.”
“The exhibit’s wonderful. Fascinating. You’re to be commended,” Vanessa said.
She and Laura shook hands, holding on in a barely hidden emotional connection. They chatted about the exhibit.
Nick had met Laura once before, at Alexei’s hearing. Seeing her again brought back the entire nightmare scenario.
A year ago, Alexei had acted as middleman, selling art and antiquities to fatten New Dawn’s coffers. He’d consulted Laura for authentication. When a purported Persian mummy turned out to be phony, Alexei strangled the unfortunate dealer. And Laura happened to witness the murder.
Alexei’s henchman had beaten and stabbed her, then locked her in the trunk of a junkyard car to die. Through sheer force of will she escaped, from the trunk and then from the hospital.
After many months, Alexei’d cornered her in Maine, where the Anti-Terrorism Security Agency had helped trap him, but only after more attempts on Laura’s life. Undercover to protect the woman, Vanessa had befriended her.
A tall, dark-haired man appeared behind Laura and slid his arm around her waist.
Laura’s expression brightened as if the sun had just come from behind a cloud. She smiled up at him.
The love in her eyes told Nick the man was Laura’s new husband. An ATSA officer, he’d coached her to greet Vanessa tonight as Danielle. She must also know about the extra ATSA security arrangements. And the reason for them.
“My husband, Cole Stratton,” she said. “Danielle LeBec and her fiancé Nick Markos.”
“A pleasure, Ms. LeBec,” Stratton said over Vanessa’s proffered hand.
“Congratulations on your recent marriage, Mr. Stratton. You make a striking couple.” Humor and affection lit her eyes.
“Yes, congratulations, Stratton. You’re a lucky man,” Nick said, holding out his hand.
“Markos.” Stratton’s steely gaze speared suspicion at Alexei’s brother. He released Nick’s hand just short of turning the grip into a duel. “Thanks. Believe me, I know.”
Vanessa watched the two men sharpen their weapons. Cole’s anger was palpable. Allowing this couple at the reception put his lady in danger again. Nick glared back, intent and defiant, shielded by the dented armor of his embattled honor. Their hands would’ve gone to their swords if they’d had any.
A smile lifting her lips, Laura fanned herself with her beaded purse. “My makeup’s melting from all the testosterone around here. Danielle, would you like to freshen up, too?”
The museum curator had no smudged mascara or lipstick. Every golden hair lay smoothly in her French twist. Whether linen or silk, nothing she wore ever dared to have a wrinkle or a stain. She was the quintessential upper-crust, sleek blonde, whose classy beauty intimidated lesser mortals.
And yet Laura seemed unaware of her effect on people. She was brave and kind, and Vanessa liked her.
She grinned. Tonight she didn’t feel rumpled and unkempt beside the other woman. Tonight they were equals. After all, she had the blue-hearted diamond lending her its allure. “While we’re gone, maybe these two will learn to play nice.”
Nick kept possession of her arm. He shook his head. “Going off by yourself isn’t a good idea.”
She peeled off his fingers. “I’ll be fine. The rest room’s right there. Along with two people I know.” She indicated the marked door and the formally clad ATSA couple lounging nearby.
From his forbidding expression, Nick clearly didn’t like it, but the women sashayed away.
Before they could enter the ladies’ room, Vanessa stopped. More than life-sized on his four-foot pedestal, the leering two-headed marble deity loomed over them as if to eavesdrop. Him, she’d allow.
“Unlikely, but the rest room could be bugged. Let’s talk here first.” She nudged her friend closer to the wall.
A matron in a red-sequined dress limped by in stiletto heels that barely contained her fleshy feet. A cloud of per
fume trailed in her wake. A small group stopped to chat a few feet away. Layers of voices and clinking crystal and the occasional inspired violin note cloaked conversation.
“I must apologize for my husband’s macho attitude,” Laura said, gripping Vanessa’s hand.
“After what he went through protecting you in Maine, I’m sure he can’t wait to end this entire mission.” A contract killer had mystified and endangered them all.
“Exactly. And seeing Alexei Markos’s brother here doesn’t help. Cole considers Nick a threat.”
“Guilty until proven innocent. Laura, Nick isn’t like his brother. He’s appalled by everything Alexei did. He’s on our side.”
Once she’d uttered the words, she knew she believed it. Nick wouldn’t betray ATSA’s goals. He had the same goals.
“I see he has a defender. His caveman protective manner reminds me of Cole. They could be brothers with their black hair and blue eyes.” She chuckled. “And you look at him the same way I look at Cole. You’re falling for him, aren’t you?”
A glance back found the two men facing each other with ramrod backs and defiant stares. But they were talking.
Vanessa sputtered, “I, uh, oh no, it’s just part of our engagement act.”
A few inches taller, Laura tilted her head like a stern teacher correcting a recalcitrant student.
Vanessa sighed. “The hazard of going undercover with an attractive man. I’ll get over it. Besides, he’s in love with the real Danielle.” It was Danielle he was engaged to. She had to remember that.
“You’re the one he has his hands on. I get the impression he’d do more than that if you weren’t in public. He’s attracted, and he cares about you. You must see that.”
She hadn’t let herself think of his heated remarks as jealousy, but maybe… “Nick did seem to overreact when Prince Amir complimented me.”
Laura waved a dismissive hand at the understatement. “So the playboy prince’s flirting hit the jealousy bull’s-eye. Nick’s not thinking of any other woman but you. The real you.”
The notion that he desired her curled around her chest. Impossible. She might be glamorous tonight, but tomorrow Cinderella would be herself—the buddy, the ordinary sister.
Code Name: Fiancée Page 9
