More silence as Roszca apparently weighed Simon’s implication. “I have had occasional need to move fast in her. Yours — that is, your employer’s boat — is a Caretti design, no?”
“Twin 700-hp MAN engines. V-drives. More responsive than most women.” She pictured the cocky grin on Simon’s face.
Roszca laughed, but didn’t bite as they left the room.
Opening up the subject was enough of a start. She slumped, exhausted, in the captain’s chair. Simon sounded positively chipper. Easy for him. She’d done the heavy lifting. Her cheeks heated. She’d directed him, but he’d performed with flair and confidence. He’d be impressed when he heard exactly what they’d accomplished.
Roszca ushered his guest through the courtyard on their way to the dining room. She could hear him pointing out a fountain and various plants.
Suddenly, a second monitor flickered from a GPS chart to a full-color live shot of two men.
“Holy crap!” Simon had planted the mini-cam. Hooting at the irony of the location, she scooted closer. “Welcome to Candid Camera. Stare into the potted palm, please.”
“You’ve brought island nature in to protect your privacy. Impressive,” Simon said as he maneuvered Roszca to a better camera angle.
“Some are unique to this small island. Others are imported. Here is one of my particular favorites.”
Janna recognized the arms broker from the videos. Dressed in pressed trousers and a khaki shirt with epaulets and flap pockets, Roszca carried himself with military bearing. His black hair, dark brows and mustache bristled with intensity.
“You bastard,” she murmured. “We’re going to bring you down and stop the uranium sale.” And fulfill her personal quest — to find out what official secrets Gabe might have given him.
During the men’s luncheon, she used her time to begin trying to hack into the arms dealer’s well-protected computer system. She needed more than intercepted e-mails to find out where the uranium was and what information Gabe might’ve given him. She needed access to the hard drive.
As she reached for her bottle of water, she heard an odd noise. Her hand stilled. She listened, her heart tripping on itself.
Voices. Footfalls on the deck.
***
Simon tried not to yawn as Roszca tested his stamina and good nature with yet another long yarn, this one about a chess tournament in Monaco. Thanks to Janna, Simon had acquitted himself well against the big man. He made interested noises as Roszca concluded his story.
Roszca set down his coffee cup and stood. “I have enjoyed our time together today, Simon. Come tomorrow at one o’clock and we will talk business.”
The dismissal came sugarcoated, but as subtle as a shark bite. Today’s social time and the chess game apparently satisfied some unknown criteria, and Roszca was ready to deal. So was Simon. “Thank you for a stimulating game, Mr. Roszca, and for the delicious lunch. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The arms dealer gestured toward the bodyguard standing at the courtyard door. “Ivan will see you to the dock.”
As Simon wended his way outside and to the dock, he considered the security force. At least four other men carrying Heckler & Koch 9 mm semiautomatics guarded the compound. Plus the hulking twins, who were nowhere in sight.
Ivan, although fit, was small, wiry. The captain of the big yacht, his intellect made him more dangerous than the muscular but slow-witted twins. Ivan watched Simon’s every move through alert, black-button eyes in a leathery face.
The trade winds were blowing again, cooling the afternoon air. In spite of ceiling fans, the full weight of the tropical heat had blanketed him inside the house. Or maybe it was the cloying scents of the many flowering plants and the heavy tension of the situation. Sweat pooled in his armpits and streamed down his spine. He longed to open his shirt and kick off his shoes.
At the dock, Ivan untied the line as Simon clambered down into the yacht’s tender. One of Roszca’s smaller boats was missing. Stepan and Sergiy probably went out on patrol.
Ivan turned to stare at the piling where the missing boat was usually tied. His confused gaze shot down to Simon. He appeared about to say something but clamped his mouth shut and hustled back toward the estate.
Probably ticked he missed the outing. The guards were probably in the habit of sneaking some extra time for fishing or swimming. “So long, Ivan ol’ buddy,” he called as he started the motor. “Catch you tomorrow.”
As he neared the Horizon, he saw the missing motorboat tied up at the stern. His pulse kicked into a gallop.
Janna!
He nearly rammed the swim platform. Had the bastards seen her? He raced up the gangway. Hassled her? Where was she?
The Mr. Clean twins were on the deck, waiting for him. Dammit, he should’ve suspected something like this when the boat and these two guys were missing. Cool stealth approach, Byrne. They couldn’t have missed the roar of his motor and the clunk of his landing.
Expressionless behind dark sunglasses, one man waved a Glock semiautomatic at him. “You come. Woman here.”
Arms folded, Janna glared at her captors from a deck chair. “Simon, tell them I’m not here to attack their boss. I tried to make them understand that I’m just the cook and first mate. But they don’t seem to speak English.”
“Have these goons touched you?”
“They … grabbed me.” A bruise purpled her right forearm. “But I’m fine.”
His temperature shot up like furnace blast. But they didn’t molest her, thank God. Relief swept away some of the heat. He could’ve kissed her. After all she’d been through with her louse of a husband, she faced these goons with bravery and stuck to her undercover role. Even pretending she couldn’t understand their language.
Crossing the deck to stand at her side, Simon had no trouble working up a furious scowl. “You guys know a little English. Listen up. You have insulted my woman. Get off my boat.” He ignored the pistol’s menace and jerked a thumb toward the stern. “Go.”
Janna jumped to her feet. “Yes, shoo.” She made the appropriate hand motions.
The two men exchanged perplexed glances but stayed put.
They must have been given orders to search the yacht while he lunched with their boss. Nobody had suspected Janna was aboard, so her presence threw them off. Their steroid-dulled brains didn’t work fast.
A rumble signaling the approach of another motorboat sent him to the rail. “What now? Did somebody send out party invitations?”
“It’s Roszca. And another man,” Janna whispered. “What—?”
“Good,” he said in a loud voice, snaking an arm around her shoulders and tugging her close. He understood the other bodyguard’s behavior on the dock. Ivan had seen the problem and went to get his boss.
Simon would have to improvise. Fast. “Now we’ll get some results.”
As soon as Roszca stepped on board, he barked an order.
His men’s guns immediately disappeared into their holsters. The two stood aside.
“Mr. Roszca, your men boarded this yacht without permission. They scared the hell out of my … friend.”
The arms broker removed his sunglasses. His avid gaze browsed Janna’s assets like a prospective buyer examining a promising filly. “The fault is mine. I sent Stepan and Sergiy for security purposes. In my business, one cannot be too careful. You understand.”
Simon should’ve expected a search. His preoccupation with Janna had scrambled his instincts. “They had no right to frighten Janna here. Or touch her. She has a bruise.”
She affected a sexy pout. “They … they searched my things. My personal things.” Her shoulders quivered to indicate her sense of violation. She held the white shirt closed across her breasts.
“They were crude.” Roszca made a small bow. “Once they saw you were on board, they should have left.” He turned to his men and, in a flurry of Cleatian, gave more orders.
The two chastened men bowed br
iefly to Janna, climbed into their boat and sped away.
Once the motor noise diminished, Roszca said, “I would apologize properly, but we have not been introduced.”
Simon released his vise grip on her shoulders and slid a hand down to clasp hers. Her fingers were icicles. “Janna, I’d like you to meet our host, Viktor Roszca.” International arms broker and courtly thug.
With a tentative look at Simon as if for confidence or approval, she held out a hand to Roszca.
He took her hand and bowed over it, stopping short of kissing it. “I am honored. Please accept my deepest apologies for my men’s actions. They are loyal, but not refined or clever. I hope you were not harmed.”
She shook her head. “Just scared.”
“You will both come to dinner tomorrow night at my house. It would please me to show you my island hospitality. Seven o’clock.”
At the invitation, Simon’s throat convulsed. His first thought was hell no. How could he do his job and keep her safe at the same time? But this was an offer he couldn’t refuse without insulting their host.
Their quarry.
Chapter 15
“WE’D BE DELIGHTED. Right, Janna?”
“Absolutely.” Her pout returned, and she even batted her lashes. “Will they be there?”
“For you, lovely Janna, I shall banish my men.” On another small bow, he left.
As Simon watched Roszca speed to the dock, he unclenched his fists finger by finger so he wouldn’t punch holes in the fiberglass. Exerting control, he went to Janna and placed his hands on her shoulders. “You’re sure you’re all right? They didn’t hurt you?”
“I’m fine. One of them clamped down on my arm while the other one searched.” She rubbed the bruise.
“Are we still secure?”
“I heard them on deck in time to mask the monitors. All they saw in the console was the normal nav gear. The other weapons and our IDs are still behind the panel in the galley, and they didn’t find your Glock.”
“First undercover test and right out of the starting gate you went for the rail. Great work.” He planted a quick kiss on her forehead.
She beamed. “Thanks. I guess we’re okay then.”
“Okay? Not by a long shot.” Swearing under his breath, he stalked back and forth on the deck. “Hell, I should’ve anticipated a search. My neglect put you in danger. You have to get away. I won’t let you go into that animal’s lair.”
Hands on hips, she glared at him. “You won’t let me? You may be my superior, but the mission leaves you no choice. I can be another set of eyes and ears on the island.”
“No way, Q. You’re my second set of eyes and ears already. Now that the bugs are in place and working, you can monitor them from the control boat as well as from here.”
He hadn’t protected her from Gabe, but dammit he’d protect her now. He cared too much for her to chance Roszca getting his paws on her. A glimpse of her bruise at the hands of those thugs made his nerve endings sizzle all over again. The thought of her chatting with that slime clawed at his chest.
Her sharp intake of breath stopped him in his pacing. “You can’t send me away! Don’t try to control me. You can’t order me around. You don’t own—” Cheeks tinged red, she stopped mid-sentence, shook her head and put a hand to her mouth.
The bottom dropped out of his fury. He closed the distance between them to a step. “What is it? What’s the matter?”
“Oh, Simon, forgive me. That was unprofessional.” Her chin trembled, and she gazed upward at a single, high cloud. When she focused on him again, her eyes were clear, but with pain in their storm-sky depths. “First, those … twin thugs and then you ordering me … I lost it. I apologize.”
Her distress wrenched at his heart. His arms ached to enfold her, but he wouldn’t start something he shouldn’t finish. He’d failed her again, but had no clue how to make things right. Other than to leave her the hell alone.
“Hey, you have every right to be upset. They hurt you, and then Roszca…” He stopped as he felt temper heating him.
“It’s more than that. Loss of control over my life terrifies me. My therapist has helped me become more assertive, but I have to temper my panic and anger so I don’t overreact.”
The low, shaky sound of her voice found resonance in the hollow inside him. Emotional fallout from her husband’s abuse, yet she still looked to vindicate him. “Saint Gabriel again, the bastard. He did a number on you. I overreacted too.” Out of fear for you.
She tugged her shirttail smooth in an apparent effort at calm. “Let’s look at this logically.” Her gaze held him — steady, no flirting, no fear. “You had to accept Roszca’s invitation to dinner, didn’t you?”
“Right. Refusing would’ve slapped him in the face.”
“And slammed the door on our mission.”
“Exactly.”
“Sending me away would accomplish exactly the same end. Roszca would see my absence as an insult. We’d have no choice but to fold. He might even spot the contact boat. DARK wouldn’t find out where the stolen uranium is or learn what government secrets Gabe might have told him.”
“Or roll up the man who armed the New Dawn Warriors.” Simon pushed at the tumbled hair on his forehead and sank into the nearest deck chair. “Man, when you argue with logic, Q, you’re a pistol. I bull ahead on instinct and intuition.”
“Don’t knock intuition. You saw the situation, thought on your feet and went with Roszca’s change of program.”
He shrugged, making light of her compliment. “We’ll see how switching gears pans out. Tech officers are supposed to stay in the background. Another rule broken, but it can’t be helped. I’ll advise Thorne.”
“Simon, the chess game—”
His smile nearly blinded her. “Hey, you really came through on that one. I felt like a grand master.”
“You were channeling one. The opening moves were right out of Kasparov’s first game against Deep Blue. I took it from there.”
He stared at her as though she’d grown another head. “You mean when the chess champ played the IBM computer? That’s what we did?”
She chuckled at his shock. “I used a Website that guided your moves to match Kasparov’s in that famous game. I’m not sure I could do as well a second time.”
He gave a long, low whistle. “Better avoid more chess. I’ve dangled the yacht-race bait a little more. He’ll calculate the bigger Prowler’s chances against the Horizon’s before he goes for it, but I’ll have him.”
He stood, headed in to call the command boat. “You up for a whole evening of the boat bunny act?”
“No problem. I learned to be very good at playing a part. At least, this one’s temporary,” she said on a wry grin.
Talons scraped at Simon’s chest. As a trained operative, she had to face the same risks any DARK officer faced. He had to think of her as a colleague only.
No. Hell, he had to think of her as a boat bunny.
***
“Great chicken,” Simon said, wiping down the counter.
“Thanks. I’m limited to the boat’s ingredients. I adapted the recipe from one I got from my family’s cook.” She picked up her wineglass and followed him out of the galley.
They settled side by side on the foredeck, bare legs hanging over the side. Some of the day’s heat had dissipated in the evening breeze, perfumed with the small island’s hibiscus and frangipani.
The gibbous moon — their only light — dappled stars on the water and heightened Simon’s thoughtful expression. “A recipe from a cook. We had very different childhoods. You had your parents and God knows how many servants, and I had … myself.”
She knew only bits and pieces about his rough beginnings in Baltimore. “Was it before or after you lost your mom that the Pimlico stable manager took you in?”
He took a long drink of wine. “Both. Long before Mom died, I lost her to her pills. She had a bad back from the car
crash that killed my dad. She swallowed painkillers like candy. One night, the older guys I ran with broke into the vet office at the track. Looking for drugs. When the lights came on, they got away. I didn’t.”
The rumble of a motor announced the return of the nightly patrol. In the boat’s wake, tiny lights danced, the output of microscopic, luminescent marine creatures. Janna and Simon didn’t wave as the guards passed. Neither did the guards.
“How old were you?”
“Thirteen. And small for my age. With a big mouth.” He grinned. “Doc nabbed me and put me to work cleaning stables.”
“Instead of jail. He did you a big favor.” Simon had once told her that the other guys had gone on to bigger crimes. But he didn’t.
“More than that. He saved my life.” His voice hitched, betraying his love for his mentor.
“I remember.” Doc became the father that he’d lost so young. “You had an aunt, I recall. Why didn’t you go to her after you lost your mom?”
“Aunt Minnie. She was willing, but her drunken husband wasn’t. I was better off with Doc.”
No blood relative to want him, to care for him. Her heart ached for him. “Do you still keep in touch with him?”
A muscle tightened in his jaw, and he directed his gaze toward the horizon. “Doc died my junior year at UM. Heart attack.”
“Oh, Simon, I’m so sorry. That must’ve been rough.”
“Yeah. People die. Things change. That’s life. I married Summer soon after that. Mistake.” He downed the last of his wine and leaned back on his elbows.
She twisted to face him so her bare knee rested against his thigh. His body heat seemed concentrated in that single point, jolting her temperature. She averted her gaze to his face, remembering the brush of his whiskers on her cheek and her lips.
She’d never known his wife’s name, only that he’d been married and divorced. This was the most he ever shared without using humor to be evasive. She’d sensed the hurt behind his cocky mask, but didn’t understand enough. “You met your wife in college.”
Dark Rules (The DARK Files Book 3) Page 12
