Her Secret Agent Man

by Cindy Dees

  The maid’s gaping mouth was answer enough. They had their escape route. A few last details were worked out quickly. This maid would leave now with Julia hidden in the bottom of her cleaning cart. Another maid would be by in a little while to pick him up. He didn’t like being separated, but it seemed to be the only way. He pulled the cash out of his wallet and handed it to the maid.

  He put a hand on Julia’s arm and stared down at her. “Be careful,” he murmured. “And don’t go anywhere without me.”

  She smiled up at him. Healing warmth spread through him whether he liked it or not. She had the damnedest effect on him.

  “You, too,” she murmured. A pause. “It’s going to feel strange being separated from you.”

  He nodded tersely. “Time to go.”

  She clung to his hand for a moment and then stepped back resolutely. He helped her curl up in the compartment that usually stored buckets and other miscellaneous cleaning equipment. How in the hell he was supposed to fit in that tiny space, he had no idea. But he’d find a way. Damned if he was getting left behind. He shut the compartment’s door and nodded at the maid. She opened the hallway door and slipped out with her secret cargo.

  And then he was alone. Oddly enough, it felt as though part of himself was missing. Restless, he peered around the edges of the drawn curtains. As he’d expected. One of Julia’s pursuers from the ski resort was patrolling the parking lot. He had a big fat black eye.

  Dutch shifted his surveillance to the hallway door’s peephole. It only took about five minutes for the pair of guys who’d jumped Julia in his hotel room that first day to come into view. They looked grim. Determined.

  Dutch pulled his eye away from the peephole once they were past. He felt pretty grim right about now, too. How in the hell had these guys found him and Julia so fast? He’d used his nontraceable credit card issued by the government for when he was on Charlie Squad missions to pay for their room. Did Julia’s pursuers have police contacts? Maybe Eduardo’s FBI mole? Who else could have found them this fast? His estimation of the threat to Julia notched up yet another level.

  Where were the rest of the guys who’d been chasing Julia? Surely they were around here somewhere. His hackles lifted at the thought of more of these jerks roaming around without him knowing where they were.

  The good news was, the thugs couldn’t bust into every room in the hotel looking for him and Julia. The bad news was, they might convince the manager to let them into his and Julia’s original room. Then the bastards would know how close behind the two of them they really were. And there was nothing more persistent than a bloodhound after it acquired a fresh scent.

  The pair of men patrolling the hallway passed by twice more. Definitely scouting. Not much he could do now but sit tight and wait for his ride.

  He looked around the hotel room. Comfortable as cages went. A strong sense of déjà vu broadsided him as he paced the confined space. He’d done this before. In similar circumstances.

  His head started to hurt. He shut the curtains to block out the painful sunlight and stretched out on the bed. He closed his eyes against the throbbing in his temples.

  The room’s walls began to close in on him, and abruptly he was sitting in another hotel room, in another place and time. He’d been waiting for Julia then, too. Waiting to give her final instructions for leaving Gavarone in case she couldn’t get outside before Charlie Squad sprung its trap and she missed her rendezvous with the team.

  He’d been too impatient to sit still. So eager to see her he couldn’t think straight. Too in love to breathe.

  Whoa.

  Dutch sat upright abruptly, back in New Mexico in a rush. He’d been in love with her? He knew better than to get involved with a target on a mission. He never let his emotions interfere with his work. He was the iceman. The one everyone accused of being a robot because he held his feelings so tightly in check. Even after his brother’s death.

  He subsided against the pillows, shaken. The longer he lay there, the worse his head hurt. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched the headboard until his fingers ached. He focused on the pain, concentrating with all his might on holding back the insidious certainty that, on that particular mission, he hadn’t been a robot. Hadn’t frozen out his feelings. Had let a woman inside his guard. And it had cost his brother his life. He couldn’t possibly have been in love with Julia!

  But the lightness in his heart whenever he’d thought of her was real. The way he’d craved her presence, the way everything had seemed more vivid when she was with him…it wasn’t his imagination. And dammit, some of those reactions lingered even now, any time she was near. This very second, her absence rubbed at him, a raw spot that demanded relief.

  What sorcery had Julia Ferrare performed to get to him back then? Whatever it was, she was doing it again. How could he simultaneously love and hate a woman like this?

  His control was slipping, inch by inch. He had to fight it. To fight her! But how? He’d sworn to protect her until this was over.

  He ought to just kill her now and be done with it. Except breaking his word rankled. Stupid, but that was just the way he was. He’d promised.

  The abyss retreated. He felt it hovering near, though, laying in wait for another chance to strike at him.

  As the wait for his escape dragged out, his normally prodigious patience stretched thinner and thinner. In his line of work, it wasn’t uncommon to sit in the same spot without moving for two days at a time, doing surveillance or waiting for a target to step into his rifle sights. But this separation from Julia was driving him nuts. An overpowering need to see her, to make sure she was safe, rode him.

  It was almost two hours later, and he was on the edge of certifiably insane, before a knock finally sounded on the door and a female voice announced, “Housekeeping.”

  Thank God. He leaped to his feet, stopping only long enough at the peephole to verify that the woman was alone. He let the maid in. The girl was young and very scared looking. “Relax,” he said to her lightly in Spanish. “This will be a piece of cake.”

  She smiled timidly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Great. He didn’t need her panicking on him at the worst possible moment. “What’s your name?” he asked her as he helped her empty out the bottom of her cart.

  “Maria,” she mumbled.

  “Pretty name. My mother’s middle name is Maria. After my grandmother. They’re two feisty women. They chased a bear out of our strawberry patch once with an empty shotgun and a golf club.”

  It was a patent lie, but it brought a real smile to the girl’s face, and the terrified set of her shoulders eased a bit. “I bet your mother and grandmother are real fighters, too,” he commented. “Takes courage to let your baby girl come to the United States to make a better life for herself.”

  The girl’s shoulders squared even more. Much better. He said briskly, “We’re clear on the plan, right? You just wheel your cart from here straight down to the laundry and leave it there. The maintenance guys will take it from there.”

  She nodded.

  He got down on his hands and knees and paused in the act of levering himself into the cramped space. “Thanks,” he told her sincerely.

  “Piece of cake,” the maid replied in halting English.

  How he crammed his entire body into the storage space, he had no idea. It was such a tight fit the girl had to stow his laptop computer in the laundry bag at the end of the cart. He recalled his claustrophobia training in survival school and did what he’d been taught. He located the airhole and did his best to relax and slow his breathing. Long before he’d succeeded fully, the hallway door opened and the girl wheeled him out.

  The cart stopped in front of the service elevator, waiting for a ride to the basement and safety. A male voice from off to the left asked the maid to stop. Dammit! She mumbled in Spanish that she spoke no English. The guy tried again, in louder English. Not a Spanish speaker, apparently. Stay cool, Maria. Keep your head. He willed the girl to hear his thoughts.
The elevator dinged. The guy raised his voice even more, and the maid, bless her heart, burst out in a spate of rapid, upset Spanish.

  Dutch registered vaguely that her outburst had to do with this guy slowing her down and how much work she had to do and that he was going to get her fired. But what really held his attention was that she pushed the cart on to the elevator as she railed.

  The elevator door closed, shutting out the sound of the maid, still protesting the man’s interference vociferously. Whew, that had been a close call. What a gutsy girl. As slick a move as he’d ever seen.

  He held his position in the cart when the elevator doors opened again. In a few seconds, someone came to investigate, and a hushed female voice asked, “Are you there, señor?”

  “Yeah,” he murmured back.

  “Where is Maria?”

  “A man is questioning her upstairs. But she managed to get the cart on the elevator before they could stop her. Does she need help?” Dutch asked urgently.

  “I’ll go up and check on her.”

  “Thanks.” The last thing he needed was that girl on his conscience.

  Thankfully, the cart lurched into motion again. His hamstrings were starting to cramp up, and it was getting damn stuffy. The doors opened abruptly and he squinted at the flood of bright light.

  “Quickly, señor,” said a male voice. “Into this crate.”

  Dutch rolled out of the cleaning cart and eyed the wooden box before him. It was substantially larger than his previous hiding spot, at any rate. His limbs only half cooperating, he snatched his computer and climbed into the box. A lid clamped down, and darkness wrapped around him. The crate tilted onto a dolly and someone grunted as they pushed him into motion. A minute later a male voice counted to three and he was heaved up into the air. He braced himself as best he could, but rolled wildly in the box as it tumbled to a soft landing.

  And then an overpowering stench hit him. Rotting trash. Ye gods. He was definitely in a Dumpster.

  A man’s voice nearby. “The garbage truck will be here in about fifteen minutes. Sit tight until then.”

  He might die of asphyxiation before then. And Julia. How was she standing the hideous smell? He waited several seconds and heard nothing at all.

  “Julia?” he whispered.

  Nothing. He tried again. Panic surged in his chest. What had they done with her? So far, the hotel staff had done exactly as they’d said they would. Should he trust them? Should he blow this escape and break out to go look for her?

  Eduardo’s goon would still be patrolling the parking lot. He’d have to take that guy out, which would probably draw the attention of his buddies. And then the bastards would know Julia was still nearby. At least she’d better still be nearby. If she’d cut and run on him…

  He didn’t know if he’d be terrified or disappointed. He’d been relieved beyond belief when she’d agreed not to bolt on him yesterday. Made his job a hell of a lot easier. Right. That was why he’d nearly puked in relief when she’d agreed to stick with him. It had nothing to do with the feelings that were tearing him apart. Man, he was a mess.

  He stayed put for ten minutes and then he couldn’t stand it any longer. He had to go find her. It was a royal pain twisting around in the box until he could plant both feet on the top of his crate. But he managed to make like a pretzel and position himself. He drew a deep breath and prepared to kick out the lid when, suddenly, he heard two male voices approaching.

  He froze, straining with all his might to listen. His heart started beating normally again when they came close enough for him to hear them speaking in Spanish. He jostled as they carefully set something in the Dumpster. Julia. His relief was so intense he momentarily felt light-headed. They’d spared her the long wait in the fetid pile of trash.

  Sure enough, the men’s voices had barely faded when the loud rumble of a truck approached. “You with me, honey?” he murmured.

  He heard a sob in her voice. “Thank God you’re here.”

  “I promised I wouldn’t leave you,” he chided gently.

  The Dumpster lurched just then and her only answer was a soft cry of surprise.

  “Hang on,” he instructed. “Brace yourself as best you can.” He did the same as they slowly tipped over. His crate tumbled over twice and came to a rest. If possible, the stench was even worse in here. The truck drove away and proceeded for about five minutes. And then, thankfully, it stopped. A man’s voice called out low to them, instructing them to keep talking until he found them. Julia spoke a steady stream of thanks for this man’s assistance. Her voice retreated as she climbed out of the truck.

  “Your turn, señor,” the man said.

  In a matter of seconds, the lid cracked open and he climbed out onto a soggy, disgusting mound of filth. And then he was over the side, crushing Julia in a spontaneous hug of relief. If she smelled any worse than him, he couldn’t tell, but he didn’t care in the least. Her smile was the sweetest sight he’d seen in years.

  She wrapped her slender, strong arms around his waist and held him every bit as tightly as he was holding her.

  “I don’t ever want to be apart from you again,” she murmured fervently against his chest.

  “Me neither.” The words were out of his mouth before he even realized what he’d said. Me neither? Sweet Mother of God, what had he gone and done?

  Chapter 9

  The only thing in the world Julia wanted worse than a shower was for Dutch never to let go of her. But she felt him tense abruptly. Now what crisis threatened? She eased her grip on him reluctantly so he could do his job. But oddly, he didn’t pull away. Rather, he stared down at her for a long time. She could swear that was fear lurking behind his hooded gaze. What in the world did he have to fear from her?

  He sighed and looked away. Practical as always, he asked the truck driver for directions to a motel where they would be safe. Where they’d be anonymous. He also arranged with the guy for the driver’s brother to pick up his SUV after her pursuers left and deliver it to them.

  Dutch paid for the new motel room with cash. The clerk asked for no ID but did leer knowingly at them. Julia didn’t care as long as she could get this smell off her skin and out of her hair.

  Profound relief washed over her as they stepped into the tiny room and its giant bed. Lord, it felt good to be off the street and safe from prying eyes. For the moment. But this, too, wouldn’t last. She tried not to think ahead, to stay firmly focused on the present. After all, it might be all she had.

  A tear escaped and rolled down her cheek.

  Dutch was there immediately, his arms wrapping reassuringly around her. “It’s okay to let go now. You’re safe.”

  “For how long?” she mumbled against his chest.

  His arms tightened around her. “I said I’d keep you safe until Eduardo’s put away, and I will.”

  He made it sound so simple. But there was a big bad world out there, full of her father’s men. And then there was Dutch. He was merely biding his time, waiting for his turn to kill her. He’d kill Carina, too, if he got the chance.

  “I wish it all was that easy,” she sighed.

  “Aw, baby. It is. Just trust me. I’ll take care of the rest.” His cheek came to rest against the top of her head and his heart beat strong and steady beneath her ear.

  Then his hand slid under her hair to massage the back of her neck, and—for now—it all suddenly was that easy. The tension melted from her body, taking every last ounce of her resistance with it. He’d laid his neck on the line for her yet again today. How many times was he going to have to save her before she accepted the fact that Jim Dutcher was the real deal? He’d keep his word and not hurt her. At least not until this was all over. Here he was, patiently taking care of her, steadfastly upholding his end of their bargain. Again. Maybe she’d spent so long living in the shadow of a monster that she couldn’t see a good man when he was standing right in front of her.

  And with that thought came comfort. Security. Her feelings for him
, tightly held in check until this moment, unfolded as naturally as breathing. A warm, peaceful sense of inevitability came over her that loving him was meant to be. She blinked. Loving him? She was not—

  Her thoughts completely derailed as his mouth found hers. She didn’t stand a chance against the warm union of their mouths. She exhaled on a sigh and lost herself in the kiss. He surrounded her in his heat and strength, overwhelming her without suffocating her. It reminded her of being caught up in warm ocean surf, carried away from the safety of shore but cradled in its soothing embrace. Except this time she was lost already. There was no need to fight her way back to land. For once, she allowed the current of his hands and mouth to sweep her away.

  He lifted her off the ground and spun her around slowly as he kissed her half senseless. Her head spun twice as fast and she wrapped her arms around the immovable column of his neck. She sought the heat of his mouth, tasting the warm musk of his smooth lips, and then she sought even more. Her tongue slid inside his mouth, and he opened for her, giving himself up with a groan. She slanted her head, gorging herself on the hardness of his body and the wet, devouring heat of his mouth.

  And then she was bent backward over his arm, his mouth tearing away from hers to travel down her throat and toward the cleft of her aching breasts. She pulled his golden head closer, desperate for the fire. His free hand came up to cup her throbbing flesh, and she groaned with the exquisite torture to sensitized nerves.

  With a quick flex of his biceps, he righted her, backing her up against the wall as his kisses turned voracious. She wrapped her right leg around his hips, and he rocked against her core. Wet heat flooded her and her left leg practically collapsed from the drowning pleasure of it. Her nipples felt tight and swollen, and his clever fingers plucked at them until she threw her head back, banging it against the wall. Dutch winced and she laughed, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling his mouth down for more. Straining upward, she met him halfway, consumed by a blaze that all but incinerated her soul.