by Diana Palmer
Sure he did, she told herself glumly. She was a computer whiz, and he knew it. Hadn’t he paid for the college education that had honed those skills? He trusted her ability to manipulate software and track criminal activity through cyberspace. That didn’t amount to a declaration of love. She had to stop living in dreams. There was no hope of a future with Alexander. She wasn’t even his type. He liked highly intelligent, confident women. He liked professionals. Jodie was more like a mouse. She kept in her little corner, avoiding confrontation, hiding her abilities, speaking only when spoken to, never demanding anything.
She traced the outline of the diskette box through the soft leather of her purse, bought almost new at a yard sale. She pursed her lips. Well, maybe it was time she stopped being everybody’s lackey and started standing up for herself. She was smart. She was capable. She could do any job she really wanted to do.
She thought about firing a woman with a dependent elderly mother and child and ground her teeth together. It was becoming obvious that she was never going to enjoy that sort of job.
On the other hand, tracking down criminals was exciting. It made her face flush as she considered how valuable she could be to Alexander in this investigation. She thought of the two little Garcia boys and their poor mother, and her eyes narrowed angrily. She was going to help Alexander catch the animal who’d ordered that depraved execution. And she was just the woman with the skills to do it.
Jodie spent most of the evening and the wee hours of the morning tracking down the information Alexander had asked her to find for him. She despaired a time or two, because she ran into one dead end after another. The drug dealers must have cyber experts of their own, and of a high caliber, if they could do this sort of thing.
She finally found a Web site that listed information which was, on the surface, nothing more than advisories about the best sites to find UFO information. But one of the addresses coincided with the material she’d printed out from Alexander’s diskette, as a possible link to the drug network. She opened site after site, but she found nothing more than double-talk about possible landing sites and dates. Most covered pages and pages of data, but the last one had only one page of information. It was oddly concise, and the sites were all in a defined area—Texas and Mexico and Peru. Strange, she thought. But, then, Peru was right next door to Colombia. And while drugs and Colombia went together like apples and pie, few people outside law enforcement would connect Peru with drug smuggling.
It was two in the morning, and she was so sleepy that she began to laugh at her own inadequacy. But as she looked at the last site she made sudden sense of the numbers and landing sites. Quickly she printed out the single page of UFO landing sites.
There was a pattern in the listings. It was so obvious that it hit her in the face. She grabbed a pencil and pad and began writing down the numbers. From there, it was a quick move to transpose them with letters. They spelled an e-mail address.
She plugged back into her ISP and changed identities to avoid leaving digital footprints. Then she used a hacker’s device to find the source of the e-mail. It originated from a foreign server, and linked directly to a city in Peru. Moreover, a city in Peru near the border with Colombia. She copied down the information without risking leaving it in her hard drive and got out fast.
She folded the sheets of paper covered with her information—because she hadn’t wanted to leave anything on her computer that could be accessed if she were online—and placed them in her purse. She smiled sleepily as she climbed into bed with a huge yawn. Alexander, she thought, was going to be impressed.
In fact, he was speechless. He went over the figures in his car in the parking lot on the way to lunch. His eyes met Jodie’s and he shook his head.
“This is ingenious,” he murmured.
“They did do a good job of hiding information…” she agreed.
“No! Your work,” he corrected instantly. “This is quality work, Jodie. Quality work. I can’t think of anyone who could have done it better.”
“Thanks,” she said.
“And you’re taking notes for Brody Vance,” he said with veiled contempt. “He should be working for you.”
She chuckled at the thought of Brody with a pad and pen sitting with his legs crossed under a skirt, in front of her desk. “He wouldn’t suit.”
“You don’t suit the job you’re doing,” he replied. “When this case is solved, I want you to consider switching vocations. Any law enforcement agency with a cyber crime unit would be proud to have you.”
Except his, she was thinking, but she didn’t say it. A compliment from Alexander was worth something. “I might do that,” she said noncommittally.
“I’ll put this to good use,” he said, sliding the folded sheets into his inside suit pocket. “Where do you want to eat?” he added.
“I usually eat downstairs in the cafeteria. They have a blue plate special…”
“Where does your boss have lunch?”
“Brody?” She blinked. “When his girlfriend’s in town, he usually goes to a Mexican restaurant, La Rancheria. It’s three blocks over near the north expressway,” she added.
“I know where it is. What’s his girlfriend like?”
She shrugged. “Very dark, very beautiful, very chic. She’s District Marketing manager for the whole southwest. She oversees our sales force for the gas and propane distribution network. We sell all over the world, of course, not just in Texas.”
“But she travels to Mexico and Peru,” he murmured as he turned the Jaguar into traffic.
“She has family in both places,” she said disinterestedly. “Her mother was moving from a town in Peru near the Colombian border down to Mexico City, and Cara had to help organize it. That’s what she told Brody.” She frowned. “Odd, I thought Brody said her mother was dead. But, then, I didn’t really pay attention. I’ve only seen her a couple of times. She leads Brody around by the nose. He’s not very forceful.”
“Do you like Mexican food?”
“The real thing, yes,” she said with a sigh. “I usually get my chili fix from cans or TV dinners. It’s not the same.”
“No, it’s not.”
“You used to love eggs ranchero for breakfast,” she commented, and then could have bitten her tongue out for admitting that she remembered his food preferences.
“Yes. You made them for me at four in the morning, the day my father died. Jessie was in tears, so was Margie. Nobody was awake. I’d come from overseas and didn’t even have supper. You heard me rattling around in the kitchen trying to make a sandwich,” he recalled with a strangely tender smile. “You got up and started cooking. Never said a word, either,” he added. “You put the plate in front of me, poured coffee, and went away.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t have talked to save my life. I was too broken up at losing Dad. You knew that. I never understood how.”
“Neither did I,” she confessed. She looked out the window. It was a cold day, misting rain. The city looked smoggy. That wasn’t surprising. It usually did.
“What is it about Vance that attracts you?” he asked abruptly.
“Brody? Well, he’s kind and encouraging, he always makes people feel good about themselves. I like being with him. He’s…I don’t know…comfortable.”
“Comfortable.” He made the word sound insulting. He turned into the parking lot of the Mexican restaurant.
“You asked,” she pointed out.
He cut off the engine and glanced at her. “God forbid that a woman should ever find me comfortable!”
“That would take a miracle,” she said sweetly, and unfastened her seat belt.
He only laughed.
They had a quiet lunch. Brody wasn’t there, but Alexander kept looking around as if he expected the man to materialize right beside the table.
“Are you looking for someone?” she asked finally.
He glanced at her over his dessert, a caramel flan. “I’m always looking for someone,” he returned. “It’s my job.”
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She didn’t think about what he did for a living most of the time. Of course, the bulge under his jacket where he carried his gun was a dead giveaway, and sometimes he mentioned a case he was working on. Today, their combined efforts on the computer tracking brought it up. But she could go whole days without realizing that he put himself at risk to do the job. In his position, it was inevitable that he would make enemies. Some of them must have been dangerous, but he’d never been wounded.
“Thinking deep thoughts?” he asked her as he registered her expression.
“Not really. This flan is delicious.”
“No wonder your boss frequents the place. The food is good, too.”
“I really like the way they make coffee…”
“Kennedy!” Alexander called to a man just entering the restaurant, interrupting Jodie’s comment.
An older man glanced his way, hesitated, and then smiled broadly as he joined them. “Cobb!” he greeted. “Good to see you!”
“I thought you were in New Orleans,” Alexander commented.
“I was. Got through quicker than I thought I would. Who’s this?” he added with a curious glance at Jodie.
“Jodie’s my girl,” Alexander said carelessly. “Jodie, this is Bert Kennedy, one of my senior agents.”
They shook hands.
“Glad to meet you, Mr. Kennedy.”
“Same here, Miss…?”
Alexander ignored the question. Jodie just smiled at him.
“Uh, any luck on the shipyard tip?” Kennedy asked.
Alexander shook his head. “Didn’t pan out.” He didn’t meet the older man’s eyes. “We may put a man at Thorn Oil next week,” he said in a quiet tone, glancing around to make sure they weren’t subject to eavesdroppers. “I’ll tell you about it later.”
Kennedy had been nervous, but now he relaxed and began to grin. “Great! I’d love to be in on the surveillance,” he added. “Unless you have something bigger?”
“We’ll talk about it later. See you.”
Kennedy nodded, and walked on to a table by the window.
“Is he one of your best men?” she asked Alexander.
“Kennedy is a renegade,” he murmured coolly, watching the man from a distance. “He’s the bird who brought mercenaries into my drug bust in Jacobsville the year before last, without warning me first. One of their undercover guys almost got killed because we didn’t know who he was.”
“Eb Scott’s men,” she ventured.
He nodded. “I was already upset because Manuel Lopez had killed my undercover officer, Walt Monroe. He was my newest agent. I sent him to infiltrate Lopez’s organization.” His eyes were bleak. “I wanted Lopez. I wanted him badly. The night of the raid, I had no idea that Scott and his gang were even on the place. They were running a Mexican national undercover. If Kennedy knew, he didn’t tell me. We could have killed him, or Scott, or any of his men. They weren’t supposed to be there.”
“I expect Mr. Kennedy lived to regret that decision.”
He gave her a cool look. “Oh, he regretted it, all right.”
She wasn’t surprised that Mr. Kennedy was intimidated by Alexander. Most people were, herself included.
She finished her coffee. “Thanks for lunch,” she said. “I really enjoyed it.”
He studied her with real interest. “You have exquisite manners,” he commented. “Your mother did, too.”
She felt her cheeks go hot. “She was a stickler for courtesy,” she replied.
“So was your father. They were good people.”
“Like your own father.”
“I loved him. My mother never forgave him for leaving her for a younger woman,” he commented in a rare lapse. “She drank like a fish. Margie and I were stuck with her, because she put on such a good front in court that nobody believed she was a raging alcoholic. She got custody and made us pay for my father’s infidelities until she finally died. By then, we were almost grown. We still loved him, though.”
She hadn’t known the Cobbs’ mother very well. Margie had been reluctant to invite her to their home while the older woman was still alive, although Margie spent a lot of time at Jodie’s home. Margie and Alexander were very fond of Mr. and Mrs. Clayburn, and they brought wonderful Christmas presents to them every year. Jodie had often wondered just how much damage his mother had done to Alexander in his younger, formative years. It might explain a lot about his behavior from time to time.
“Did you love your mother?” she asked.
He glared at her. “I hated her.”
She swallowed. She thought back to the party, to her uninhibited behavior when she’d had those glasses of champagne. She’d brought back terrible memories for Alexander, of his mother, his childhood. Only now did she understand why he’d reacted so violently. No wonder she’d made him sick. He identified her behavior with his mother’s. But he’d said other things as well, things she couldn’t forget. Things that hurt.
She dropped her eyes and looked at her watch. “I really have to get back,” she began.
His hand went across the table to cover hers. “Don’t,” he said roughly. “Don’t look like that! You don’t drink normally, not ever. That’s why the champagne hit you so hard. I overreacted. Don’t let it ruin things between us, Jodie.”
She took a slow breath to calm herself. She couldn’t meet his eyes. She looked at his mouth instead, and that was worse. It was a chiseled, sensuous mouth and she couldn’t stop remembering how it felt to be kissed by it. He was expert. He was overwhelming. She wanted him to drag her into his arms and kiss her blind, and that would never do.
She withdrew her hand with a slow smile. “I’m not holding grudges, Alexander,” she reassured him. “Listen, I really have to get back. I’ve got a diskette full of letters to get out by quitting time.”
“All right,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Kennedy raised his hand and waved as they went out. Alexander returned the salute, sliding his hand around Jodie’s waist as they left the building. But she noticed that he dropped it the minute they entered the parking lot. He was putting on an act, and she’d better remember it. She’d already been hurt once. There was no sense in inviting more pain from the same source.
He left her at the front door of her building with a curious, narrow-eyed gaze that stayed with her the rest of the day.
The phone on her desk rang early the following morning and she answered it absently while she typed.
“Do you still like symphony concerts?” came a deep voice in reply.
Alexander! Her fingers flew across the keys, making errors. “Uh, yes.”
“There’s a special performance of Debussy tomorrow night.”
“I read about it in the entertainment section of the newspaper,” she said. “They’re doing ‘Afternoon of a Faun’ and ‘La Mer,’ my two favorites.”
He chuckled. “I know.”
“I’d love to see it,” she admitted.
“I’ve got tickets. I’ll pick you up at seven. Will you have time to eat supper by then?” he added, implying that he was asking her to the concert only, not to dinner.
“Of course,” she replied.
“I have to work late, or I’d include dinner,” he said softly.
“No problem, I have leftovers that have to be eaten,” she said.
“Then I’ll see you at seven.”
“At seven.” She hung up. Her hands were ice cold and shaking. She felt her insides shake. Alexander was taking her to a concert. Mentally her thoughts flew to her closet. She only had one good dress, a black one. She could pair it with her winter coat and a small strand of pearls that Margie and Alexander had given her when she graduated from college. She could put her hair up. She wouldn’t look too bad.
She felt like a teenager on her first date until she realized why they were going out together. Alexander hadn’t just discovered love eternal. He was putting on an act. But why put it on at a concert?
The answer came in an unexpected
way. Brody stopped by her office a few minutes after Alexander’s call. He came into the cubicle, looking nervous.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
He drew in a long breath. “About next Saturday…” he began.
“I can’t go,” she blurted out.
His relief was patent. “I’m so glad you said that,” he replied, relief making him limp. “Cara’s going to be home and she wants to spend the day with me.”
“Alexander’s having a birthday party that day,” she replied, painfully aware that she wouldn’t be invited, although Alexander would surely want her co-workers to think that she was.
“I, uh, couldn’t help but notice that he took you out to lunch yesterday,” he said. “You’ve known him for a long time.”
“A very long time,” she confessed. “He just phoned, in fact, to invite me to a concert of Debussy…”
“Debussy?” he exclaimed.
“Well, yes…?”
“I’ll see you there,” he said. “Cara and I are going, too. Isn’t that a coincidence?”
She laughed, as he did. “I can’t believe it! I didn’t even know you liked Debussy!”
He grimaced. “Actually, I don’t,” he had to confess. “Cara does.”
She smiled wickedly. “I don’t think Alexander’s very keen on him, either, but he’ll pretend to be.”
He smiled back. “Forgive me, but he doesn’t seem quite your type,” he began slowly, flushing a little. “He’s a rather tough sort of man, isn’t he? And I think he was wearing a gun yesterday, too…Jodie?” he added when she burst out laughing.
“He’s sort of in security work, part-time,” she told him, without adding where he worked or what he did. Alexander had always made a point of keeping his exact job secret, even among his friends, for reasons Jodie was only beginning to understand.
“Oh. Oh!” He laughed with sheer relief. “And here I thought maybe you were getting involved with a mobster!”
She’d have to remember to tell Alexander that. Not that it would impress him.
