Andrea spun, moving her head right, then left. Her blond ponytail swung with each twitch. “Both.”
Malina set aside her mug. “I’ve killed people cuter than you, you know.”
“Oh, yeah?” Andrea pulled a plastic pistol—eerily similar to the ones Malina used at the driving range—from a box beside the TV. “Let’s see it.”
Between her and Tyler’s skill and wildly competitive instincts, the game was the most fun Malina had had in a very long time. She didn’t relax often. She worked, she thought about work, she slept, ate, then worked again. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done something so normal as play video games. She’d never do this in Washington. She had no friends to play with.
“You’re very scary,” Carr said as they left via the back door and headed down the beach toward his house.
“The Bureau has an excellent training program.”
“And very hot.”
“Only for you, Counselor.” Grinning, Malina hugged him to her side. “Now let’s nail these jerks.”
WHEN CARR and Malina stepped aboard Ellerby’s boat, the yacht captain was considerably less hospitable than he’d been the first time.
Gone was the mask of the charming party host. In its place was the cold-blooded criminal Carr knew he really was. He’d lost control of his operation, and he wasn’t happy about it.
“I thought we agreed you’d come alone,” Ellerby said, his annoyed gaze scraping the blonde and disguised Malina.
“Did we?” Making an effort to stay calm and not let Ellerby’s attempt at control rattle him, Carr smiled. “I notice you’re not alone either.”
Two beefy guys stood a few feet away, looking as if they’d like nothing better than to start the morning with a murder or two.
Carr was counting on both the busy marina and Malina’s expert assurance that thieves were generally not killers—except out of panic. Ellerby wasn’t most thieves, but if he was panicked, he was hiding the emotion very skillfully.
Their suspect extended his arm to invite them to sit at a small table that was set up on the rear deck of the yacht.
Bold egomaniac.
The FBI’s assessment of Ellerby’s character was dead-on. Most people conducting an exchange of money and stolen property might do so under the cover of darkness, or at least inside the cabin. Even Jack had made his deals late at night.
Either Ellerby had more ego than sense, or he’d simply been a criminal for so long he’d forgotten his business was completely illegal.
As Ellerby pulled out a chair for Malina, his gaze lingered on her trim, sun-darkened body, encased in a yellow tennis dress. Though Malina smiled brightly at their host, she hadn’t been thrilled with Carr’s wardrobe choice, but he’d assured her the exposure of her legs was just the sort of distraction they could use.
The dress’s short length also meant Carr had to carry her backup pistol strapped to his ankle, which certainly annoyed her more than flashing a lot of skin.
Ellerby sat opposite Carr and next to Malina at the table. “Much as I enjoyed your company at my party, I must admit your call came as a rude shock.”
Carr nodded. “I can assure you Jack’s blubbering confession about being involved in a major diamond theft provided me the same response.”
Ellerby’s lip curled in a sneer. “Jack has no appreciation for the subtleties of business.”
“You’ve got a sweet setup here,” Carr commented, glancing around.
“Yes, well…” Ellerby’s gaze again drifted toward the lovely blonde Malina. “Due to recent events, I’m afraid I’ll be moving on soon.”
“You’re not afraid Jack will go to the cops?” Carr asked.
“And say what?” A hint of a smile appeared on Ellerby’s lips. “He has a handful of stones he’s trying to liquidate? No, I’m well insulated.”
Unfortunately for Ellerby, what he didn’t know was that yesterday afternoon, his contact at the diamond mine had been arrested by Australian authorities and was even now spilling all kinds of details about Ellerby’s connection.
The FBI was still tracing back the emerald theft that was the source of today’s exchange, but when the middle of a structure started to crumble, the rest couldn’t be far behind.
“Smart,” Carr said.
In response to the compliment, Ellerby merely inclined his head.
Carr had known getting him to talk wouldn’t be easy, but he’d anticipated a bit more bragging. Certainly the FBI listening via the recorder Malina was wearing was hoping the same thing. He also noted that the other man kept his hands out of sight, probably folded in his lap. Body language, hands specifically, revealed emotions.
He glanced at Malina to see she was playing her role as vapid girlfriend and simply staring at Ellerby as if he’d recently hung the moon. The devoted look on her face was frankly disturbing.
“As we discussed on the phone,” Carr said to Ellerby, “I’m here to merely help out a friend who’s gotten into a situation he’s unable to handle.”
“Yet you expect to be paid for this favor.”
Carr nodded. “Naturally. I’m well paid for my expertise in handling troubling situations.”
“You have an impressive track record in court.”
“Products liability is a lucrative if somewhat mundane field.”
“Oddly enough, though, the last few years you’ve taken on the peculiar challenge of defending churches.”
Carr made an effort to look embarrassed. “Yes, well, I got involved in a few projects that weren’t altogether legitimate. I thought I ought to lay low for a while. And consulting is both profitable and mostly effortless.”
The ease with which Carr slipped into the role of the bored, depraved lawyer made his stomach tighten. After all this time, had he really changed? Was he any different from Simon Ellerby, profiting from the effort and suffering of others?
Malina, as if she guessed his thoughts, distracted him by laying her hand on his thigh. “Baby, are you going to talk boring business all day? You said I could have an emerald.”
He let her warmth infuse him. What would he ever do without her? “Of course you can, darling. Let me work out the details, okay?”
As they’d hoped, the idea of selling them one of the gems pleased Simon. The transaction would draw them firmly into the illegality of the operation—they wouldn’t tattle to the cops because they were guilty, too.
“Beautiful women are often high maintenance, aren’t they?” Ellerby commented.
Malina’s fingers dug into Carr’s leg, and he picked up her hand, bringing it to his lips. “They’re worth it.”
Judging by the lightning-quick gleam in Malina’s eyes, Carr knew he’d pay for that quip later. Even if it was in character.
With his other hand, Carr reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a small jeweler’s pouch, which he dropped in front of Malina. “Pick the one you want.” Carr shifted his gaze to Ellerby. “Unless you have a preference, Simon?”
Seemingly indulgent, Ellerby leaned back in his chair. “Be my guest.”
With an expression of pure joy, Malina spread the bag’s contents on the table. The glittering green stones looked unreal, spread out at random like pieces dumped from a children’s board game.
Malina oohed and aahed over several of them, showing each one in turn to Carr. As the indulgent lover, Carr encouraged her to choose the largest, which appeared to be nearly five carats.
Ellerby happily provided a jeweler’s loupe for both him and Carr to examine each stone more closely. They haggled back and forth on the price of the stone for “Sandy,” then about the transfer fee to give Ellerby the merchandise.
Business complete, Malina leaned toward their suspect, drawing her finger down his forearm. “Did you really steal all these beautiful emeralds?”
Carr’s heart slammed against his ribs. That wasn’t part of the plan. She was trying to get a confession and cement the case.
Ellerby went statue-still for the
space of two of those heartbeats. “Better. I had somebody else do it.”
“Wow.” Malina’s eyes sparked. “That’s so cool, isn’t it, baby?” she said, rising from her chair, then shifting to Carr’s lap. “Thank you for my pretty emerald.”
While Carr was fighting the instinctive arousal he always experienced when Malina touched him, she was making a big production out of kissing his cheek and stroking his chest.
With her other hand, however, she was reaching down his leg for the pistol holstered at his ankle.
Almost casual, she rose and turned, pointing the weapon at Ellerby. “FBI. You’re under arrest.”
In a way, it was all rather anticlimactic.
“Come on, Ellerby,” Malina said, her own, commanding voice in full effect instead of the role she’d been playing. “Hands up.”
True to the order, Ellerby pulled his hands from under the table and lifted them. In the right one, he held a snub-nosed revolver.
Which he pointed, not at Malina, but Carr.
“You don’t want to do that,” Malina said calmly, taking a step toward Ellerby before Carr could do anything other than blink.
Ellerby’s eyes flashed cold as ice. “Oh, yes, I do. And if you move another step closer, I’m shooting him.”
Malina’s hot stare seemed to burn right through Ellerby. Then, for a second, she shifted her aim to the guards, who were reaching into their jackets, presumably for weapons. “Don’t even think about it.”
They ignored her warning, but before they could fully draw their guns, Malina fired off two shots and both men went down.
The whole exchange hadn’t taken more than ten seconds.
“You want to try me, Ellerby?” Malina asked, her even-toned voice nevertheless threatening.
True concern crossed the thief’s face for the first time. He’d clearly underestimated her.
His hesitation was all Malina needed. She kicked the revolver out of his hand, then jerked him from the chair and forced him to lie facedown on the deck.
Carr rushed over to help her put cuffs on Ellerby, then hauled their prisoner to his feet. Resentfully staring at them, Ellerby groaned in disgust. “A damn blonde bimbo and a puffed-up lawyer.”
“Come heavy,” Malina said into the watch on her wrist, communicating with the team that had been waiting and listening from a van in the marina parking lot.
“Heavy?” Carr asked.
“You’ll see.”
Moments later, Carr heard heavy footsteps on the gangway, then a group of agents, dressed in black fatigues and helmets, guns drawn, stormed onto the deck.
Simon Ellerby fainted.
Smiling, Malina jerked off her wig and pushed the thief into the waiting arms of a colleague.
His heart racing both with pride and leftover adrenaline, Carr stared at her. “Thieves aren’t violent, huh?”
“He panicked.” When Carr continued to gape silently, she added, “He didn’t shoot you, did he?”
13
MUCH TO Malina’s surprise, less than a week later, the call from D.C. came.
They wanted her back at headquarters in Quantico ASAP, and Carr took her to The Night Heron marina bar to celebrate.
Andrea and Tyler came, as well as Sloan and Aidan Kendrick. Even Sister Mary Katherine stopped by briefly to congratulate her before heading back to the rectory. Carr seemed to be the only one who wasn’t in a party mood.
For the past several days they’d lived in an insulated world of accomplishment and blissful satisfaction, and now the bubble had burst.
Malina kept telling herself she was thrilled about the transfer, but part of her was determined to mourn. Carr was a remarkable man, and Palmer’s Island felt like a real home for the first time since she’d left Hawaii. She was surrounded by both nature’s beauty and people who had carved out their very own slice of heaven.
But her work was her life, and the only way to advance her career was to go back to Washington. She wanted to run the Bureau someday, didn’t she?
And yet she only knew two things for certain—she wanted to go, but she didn’t want to leave. Since those two states completely contradicted each other, she was pretty well screwed.
Glancing around the table at the people who’d so quickly become trusted friends, dread settled in her stomach. She didn’t want to break the bonds she’d made.
But the Bureau would demand a psych evaluation if she turned down this transfer to stay in piddly Palmer’s Island.
Plus, in a whole different area of concern, she was desperately trying to convince herself she wasn’t turning into her mother.
They were nothing alike. Malina didn’t compromise her dreams for men. She wasn’t about to settle for ordinary assignments and waste her considerable skills.
She and Carr were only having a fling. The intense feelings would pass—on both sides. Sister Mary Katherine and her vision of love was just that—a hallucination.
But will your skills make you happy?
Carr had spent years using his, and the results made him miserable. Could she really go back to playing the hated game of politics? Had anything really changed except the Bureau’s favor?
She glanced at Carr sitting next to her, his thigh pressed against hers as they sat in the booth. He immediately slid his hand over hers, bringing her wrist to his lips, where he pressed a gentle kiss.
But there was no hiding the anxiety in his eyes.
“So, Malina, the bad guys are all safely locked up?” Sloan Kendrick asked, reaching for another helping of the hot wings in the center of the table.
Focusing on the question instead of Carr’s brooding expression, Malina nodded. “The judge even denied Ellerby bail. With his resources and connections, he’s considered a major flight risk.”
“And the stolen goods?” Andrea asked.
“We found both Jack and Ellerby with paintings, sculptures and gems in their homes, boats and warehouses,” Malina said. “We think we’ve gotten most of the items except the diamonds. There were several that had already been sold to distributors. We’re still running them down, but we’re not hopeful they’ll ever be recovered.”
“Are those two goons really threatening to sue the FBI for police brutality?” Tyler asked, looking amused.
Malina snorted a laugh. “I glanced their shoulders. They’re lucky to be walking. Drawing down on a federal cop isn’t wise.”
“I believe you were wearing a skimpy tennis dress at the time, Agent Blair,” Aidan pointed out. When Malina’s pleased expression turned to a scowl, he added, “But they’re obviously sore losers.”
Carr squeezed her hand. “She was amazing.”
Tyler grinned. “I, for one, admire your accuracy. Sure you don’t want to hang around the island and help me scare off the riffraff?”
The casual question evoked an odd response. Every gaze at the table whipped to Carr.
“I belong in Washington,” Malina found herself saying after an uncomfortable silence.
Completely contrary to her fearless facade, though, she didn’t look at Carr as she said the words.
“COME WITH ME,” Malina said to Carr when they were alone in his car—the party pretty much breaking up after her confirmation that she was leaving.
Carr kept a tight hold on her hand, but his gaze was directed at the steering wheel. “I can’t.”
Her heart lurched. She’d been too impulsive. She’d pushed this too far, too soon. A fling, right? Hadn’t she told herself a thousand times that’s what this was? Why would he—
“I lost my soul in the city,” he said before she could finish her thought. His tortured gaze found hers. “Now that I’ve found it again, I can’t ever go back to that life.”
Pulse pounding, she turned toward him, laying her hand alongside his jaw. “Washington isn’t Manhattan. It won’t be the same. I’ll be there for one.”
To her heartbreak, he shook his head. “You didn’t know me before. You don’t understand. I won’t be able to resist makin
g connections, working the system.”
“It won’t be the same,” she repeated, though she saw the resignation in his eyes and knew her plea wouldn’t help. She even understood why.
He hugged her against his side, as much as the gear-box in the center console would allow. “I was both terrified and hopeful you’d ask this question, but my answer is no. I can’t leave this island.”
She tucked her head against his shoulder. Their feelings weren’t strong enough to make this last. She hadn’t done enough to nurture their relationship, and she was choosing advancing her career over his sanity, after all.
But there was one thing she had to know. “Do you love me?”
“Very much,” he said without hesitation. “But if I go back, I won’t be a man worthy of love.”
She wasn’t sure a heart could literally break in two, but hers did anyway.
She wanted to tell him she’d stay with him, that she loved him in return, but everything inside her was at war. Her past and present; her career and her life.
“I don’t know what I want,” she said, knowing she could give him nothing less than her absolute honesty. “I’ve never loved anybody but my parents. I don’t know how it’s supposed to feel.”
He pressed his mouth against her cheek. “I could give you a demonstration.”
SHE LEFT in the early morning, leaving him sleeping in the bed they’d shared the past few weeks.
Leaving the house he’d built, which was so much a part of him, both traditional and modern, warm and cool, past and present, was nearly as hard as slipping from between the sheets and abandoning his body warmth for the unknown future.
She went home.
What choice did she have? Who else could give her answers? Where else could she reflect on her options and choices?
She found her island birthplace the same as always—tourists taking Zodiac raft trips around the cliffs, the annoying buzz of helicopter tours overhead and her parents, welcoming her with open arms, then handing her a surfboard.
Since it was March, the end of winter surf season, the north shore was full of tourists, locals and professionals alike. But, typically, after three days absorbed in the mundane task of renting boards and teaching vacationers to ride the waves, Malina grew restless.
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