Always

by Iris Johansen

  “The pretty dolls are entertaining,” Galbraith drawled. “And I think that old poker face of yours slipped enough so that I could see you were dazzled by the qualities of the lady.”

  “You’re getting fresh, John.” Clancy pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. “Remind me to slap you down the next time you annoy me. It will do wonders for your own character development.”

  Galbraith grimaced. “I won’t have to remind you. You remember everything. Unfortunately. I suppose you’re going backstage. Do you want me to wait and continue surveillance?”

  Clancy hesitated. “No,” he said slowly. “I’ll take care of it.”

  Galbraith’s brows lifted in surprise. “Really? It must be years since you did any chore as plebeian as surveillance. Are you sure you remember how?”

  “Fresh.” Clancy enunciated the word distinctly. “Very fresh. I assure you I’ll muddle through.”

  Galbraith’s cheeky grin faded as he silently cursed himself. It wasn’t safe to bait Clancy who, when he lost patience, could turn and mete out punishment efficiently. Galbraith held up his hands. “Joking.” He smiled. “I’m no fool, Clancy. I know what you are.”

  “It’s nice that you’re so confident of your perceptiveness,” Clancy said with a slightly enigmatic smile. “There are times when I’m not at all sure that I know.” He turned and walked swiftly across the tiny dance floor to the arched doorway through which Lisa Landon had disappeared.

  The knock on the dressing room door was brisk and authoritative.

  Lisa tensed, then consciously forced herself to relax. It couldn’t be he. She’d seen no sign of Martin since she’d arrived here. She mustn’t let her imagination run wild just because a knock on the door was demanding instead of politely perfunctory. She reached for a tissue and began wiping the cream from her face. “Come in.”

  “For God’s sake, didn’t anyone ever tell you that you don’t leave your door unlocked and invite just anyone who’s on the other side to come in?” The man who stood in the doorway was frowning and his voice was harsh. “For all you knew, I could have been Jack the Ripper.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise as she turned away from the mirror to look at him. “You’re not Jack the Ripper,” she muttered. The man did look dangerous though. He stood well over six feet with the broad shoulders and the deep chest of a longshoreman. His features were rough and craggy, with broad cheekbones and a nose that had been broken at some time or other. He had the golden tan of a man who lived in the hot sun of the tropics, and his hair might once have been raven dark but was now flecked with silver. He gave the impression of a man fully mature, fully in control, and very used to having his own way. She found herself instinctively rebelling against him. She’d had her fill of men who wanted their own way. She lifted her chin. “It’s true you could be just as disreputable as Jack the Ripper. So perhaps you should leave.”

  His expression didn’t change, but she had the impression she’d surprised him. Suddenly he smiled with a beguiling warmth. The transformation of his rough-hewn face gave her a little shock.

  “I was rude, wasn’t I? You’ll have to forgive me.” There was the faintest trace of a brogue in his deep voice. “I’ve always been too blunt. It’s one of my greatest faults. My name is Clancy Donahue, Miss Landon. I’d like to talk to you, if I may.” His blue eyes were suddenly twinkling. “I’ll let you search me if it will make you feel any safer. I’m totally without weapons of any sort.”

  She doubted that. There was nothing in the least defenseless about Clancy Donahue. His wickedly appealing smile caused her to smile in return. “I’ll trust you. Come in, Mr. Donahue. What can I do for you?” She resumed wiping the cream from her face.

  He closed the door and the size of the dressing room seemed to shrink. “I want your cooperation.” He came forward to stand before her. “You’ve missed a spot. Here, let me.” He took the tissue and carefully wiped the blob of cream from her temple. For someone with such large hands, he was very gentle. It was an intimate gesture performed with surprising matter-of-factness. “There. That does it.” He tossed the tissue on the vanity. “I like you better without makeup. Your skin is really quite extraordinary.” He spoke almost abstractedly. “So white and soft. Like a camellia. I was thinking that while I was watching you sing tonight.”

  “You were in the audience?” She couldn’t hide her surprise as she glanced at his casual jeans and navy crew-neck sweater. She had known the headwaiter for only a few days, but she was aware that Monty was snobbish and rigid about his precious dress code.

  Clancy’s lips twisted. “I have friends in high places.”

  “You must.” Lisa wished he’d move away from her. She could feel the heat emanating from his big body even though he was no longer touching her, and she was conscious of the clean scent of soap and an after shave that smelled vaguely minty. She’d been shockingly aware of the physical presence of the man since he’d walked in the door, and she wasn’t sure she liked having her composure disturbed. She had fought too long, and too hard to gain that composure. Nodding, she gestured to the chair across the room. “Won’t you sit down?” He moved away at once and she let her breath out in a little rush. How stupid to feel threatened because he was a virile male and she was merely experiencing a very natural sexual chemistry. “You said something about cooperation?”

  He dropped into the chair she’d indicated. “In my search for Martin Baldwin,” he said bluntly. “I think you can deliver him to me.”

  She stiffened. “You’re a policeman?”

  He shook his head. “I’m with the Sedikhan Security Service. Your ex-husband and his ‘company’ have been running guns to a group of terrorists based across the border from Sedikhan in Said Ababa.” His expression hardened. “I don’t like men who make money off of that terror any more than I like the terrorists themselves. I want very much to find Baldwin.”

  Lisa moistened her lips. Oh, dear Lord, would it never end? “Then go find him,” she said quietly. “It has nothing to do with me.”

  “I need you. Baldwin knows I’m looking for him and has gone underground. The only person who can make him come out of hiding is you.”

  She lowered her lashes to veil her eyes. “We’re not married any longer. I have nothing to do with Martin these days.”

  “Not willingly, perhaps.” Clancy shrugged. “But he still wants you. Would you like me to quote a few instances of Baldwin’s pathological jealousy? You lost a very good job in Las Vegas because Baldwin made a scene and threatened to cut a customer’s throat. That was about a year ago, wasn’t it? There have been two other ugly scenes since that I can think of offhand. I have the dossier in my suitcase if you’d like to review it.”

  “No,” she said numbly. Of course he would have a dossier on her. All policemen had their damned dossiers. She should know that by now. “I just want to be left alone. I’m not involved in Martin’s activities. I never have been.”

  “I know,” he said in a gentle tone. “But you’ll remain involved as long as he’s in your life. Give him to me and I’ll promise to remove him.” He paused deliberately. “Permanently.”

  Her gaze lifted swiftly to his. She smiled with an effort. “You sound quite lethal. The last I heard, gun running wasn’t a capital offense.”

  “Perhaps not in the U.S., but in Sedikhan it’s a different situation entirely.” He smiled with a touch of cold ferocity. “Alex leaves judgments of that nature up to me.”

  “Alex?”

  “Alex Ben Raschid, the sheikh of Sedikhan. Alex is a very busy man these days. I assure you I have full power to act for him. Is it a deal?”

  “You’d kill him?” Lisa whispered.

  “Perhaps; I haven’t decided as yet. In any event, he won’t be around to bother you again. Isn’t that what you want?”

  She shivered. “Not that way. I could never be that cold-blooded.”

  His lips tightened. “Baldwin is a hell of a lot more cold-blooded than you could ever drea
m of being. What kind of man do you think would furnish hand grenades and dynamite to terrorists when he knows damn well they’ll be used to blow up schoolbuses and supermarkets? Two children were killed last year in Marasef and several more were injured. I can’t touch the terrorists as long as Said Ababa is protecting them, but I can stop their flow of weapons.” He paused. “I can stop Baldwin.”

  “Children were hurt?” She felt suddenly sick. How could Martin do these things? It was unbelievable.

  Clancy nodded curtly. “Will you help me?”

  She drew a deep breath. “I can’t.”

  “You can. But you won’t. Perhaps you’re one of those women who get some sort of kinky thrill out of being desired by a bastard like that. Maybe it’s a little game the two of you play.”

  “A game!” Her brown eyes were blazing. “Do you think I enjoy having my career slowly destroyed in the most humiliating way possible? That I like being afraid every time I hear a knock on the door that it will be him and the whole sordid mess will start again? You’re a very stupid man, Mr. Donahue.”

  “Then give him to me,” Clancy said relentlessly. “Cooperate.”

  “I can’t, dammit.” She jumped to her feet. “He was my husband. I had his child. It doesn’t matter what he did. I can’t be your Judas goat. Not and still live with myself.”

  “Child?” Clancy repeated slowly.

  She could feel the blood drain from her face. Don’t think about it; keep the pain at bay, she silently commanded herself. “Didn’t your neat little reports mention that?” she asked bitterly. “Perhaps your informants didn’t consider the birth of my little boy important. It wasn’t exactly a world-shaking event.” Her voice dropped to a husky whisper. “Except to me.”

  “I’m sure it must have been in the report. I must have overlooked it.” Clancy found his hands unconsciously tightening on the arms of the chair. The idea of her bearing that bastard’s child filled him with a totally irrational rage.

  “How careless of you.” She wouldn’t cry. Oh, God, she had thought all the tears had been shed long ago. Why were her eyes stinging with them now? Firmly she blinked the moisture away and lifted her chin. “But you can see that I wouldn’t be able to do as you ask.”

  “You refuse?”

  She nodded. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to catch Martin on your own. You’ll get no help from me.”

  “I’m sorry, too.” A fleeting expression of regret was replaced by a look of fierce determination. “I wanted your cooperation. I don’t like using force unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

  “Force!” Her eyes widened with disbelief. “How could you possibly force me?”

  “Very painlessly, I hope: Once you realize that I hold all the cards, I think you’ll be sensible.” He sat forward. “Let me tell you exactly what you’re going to do. You’ll continue to sing here until Baldwin shows up.” His lips twisted. “And we both know he’ll do so eventually. It’s obvious that I can’t convince you to tip my man when you see him, but you’re not to blow our surveillance to Baldwin, either. Once he’s spotted, we’ll move in and take over.”

  She shook her head as if to clear it. “Didn’t you hear me? I won’t help you. Not actively nor passively. If you expect Martin to show up here, then I’ll leave. I have only two more nights to this engagement anyway.”

  “Wrong,” he said succinctly. “I didn’t bring you here to let you go before you served my purpose. You’re the bait that’s going to lure my rat out of the woodwork.”

  “You didn’t bring …” Understanding suddenly dawned. “You arranged for me to come here to Paradise Cay? What do you have to do with this place?”

  He shrugged. “The island is a Sedikhan possession and so is most of the real estate on it. That’s not widely known since Alex purchased it only two years ago, so Baldwin shouldn’t learn that you’re sitting squarely in the lion’s mouth until it snaps shut.”

  “Charming,” she said. “I suppose I should have suspected something. The deal was much too generous for a singer who is still struggling on the bottom rungs of the ladder.” She laughed mirthlessly. “I was very excited about it, you know. I thought I was getting somewhere at last.”

  “You’ll get there. You’re extraordinarily talented. After your stint here, I’ll arrange for you to meet a few people who’ll be glad to help.” He smiled grimly. “I’ll just call in a few debts.”

  “Bribery?” She felt the color rush to her cheeks. “Just close my eyes and be rewarded with a payoff? No, thank you, Mr. Donahue.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” he snapped. “I just wanted to help.”

  “Well, I don’t want to help you,” she said hotly. “And I’m not about to. Tomorrow I’ll take the first flight back to Miami. This engagement is now officially at an end.”

  “That’s your last word on it?” Clancy asked calmly.

  She nodded. “I won’t be used by you. I won’t be used by anyone, dammit.”

  He stood up. “You will, you know. I’ll just have to find another trap to bait.” He turned and walked toward the door. “Good night, Miss Landon.”

  Her hands clenched at her sides. “He may not even come,” she burst out in exasperation.

  He opened the door. “You underestimate yourself. Baldwin will come.” He paused, and for an instant something flickered in his eyes that sent a tremor through her. “I would.” He softly closed the door behind him.

  When Clancy left the dressing room he proceeded directly to his villa. He dialed Alex’s private number as soon as he reached the study. It was answered almost at once, as he’d thought it would be. Since the terrorist situation had taken on such dangerous proportions in Sedikhan, Alex often burned the midnight oil.

  “Alex? I may need you to pull some diplomatic strings in the U.S. I’ll try to cover myself as much as possible, but it may get a bit dicey.”

  “Baldwin?” Alex asked. “That shouldn’t be too difficult. He has both drug smuggling and assault with intent to kill charges pending against him in Miami.”

  “Not Baldwin.” Clancy hesitated. “His ex-wife. I’m going to kidnap her.”

  There was a long silence on the other end of the line. “Kidnap an American citizen? I can see how that could get a little dicey. You’re sure it’s necessary?”

  “It’s necessary,” Clancy said. “I just thought I’d warn you in case I have to send out a Mayday.”

  “Is she collaborating with Baldwin?”

  “No, of course not. She wouldn’t—” He broke off. He sounded as defensive as Galbraith had earlier, he realized with exasperation. He finished lamely, “She’s not involved.”

  “Oh, you’re going to kidnap an innocent American citizen.” Suddenly Alex chuckled. “Why do I have the feeling that you’ve stumbled across something that you can’t handle?”

  “I can handle it.”

  “I sincerely hope so,” Alex drawled. “You wouldn’t consider giving up your little captive in the interest of diplomacy?”

  “I would not.”

  “I didn’t think so.” Alex’s tone was slightly whimsical. “All right, Clancy. Make off with your little houri. I’ll take the flak if it comes down to it. Enjoy.”

  “Enjoy!” Clancy said. “Dammit, this is business … your business.”

  “Is it?” Alex murmured softly. “Somehow I have my doubts about that. If I can help, let me know. If I’d found it necessary with Sabrina, I would probably have done the same thing. Keep in touch.” The dial tone sounded as Alex hung up.

  Clancy slowly replaced the receiver. Damn Alex, anyway. They were so close that it had always been impossible to deceive him even if he succeeded in deceiving himself.

  Alex was right. His primary reason for keeping Lisa Landon on Paradise Cay had altered drastically in the brief time in her dressing room. Yet how could he explain to Alex what he didn’t understand himself? His responses had always been firmly under his control until that spotlight had suddenly highlighted Lisa Landon’s se
rene figure sitting on the tiny stage. Now he didn’t know how to sort out what he was feeling. Admiration for her integrity mixed with sympathy, jealousy, possessiveness, desire—and anger at her ability to arouse and confuse him to this extent.

  He had never lied to himself, and he wasn’t about to start now. Even if Lisa hadn’t been the key to capturing Baldwin, he would still have found a way to see that she stayed here. What was he thinking? He’d been exposed to Alex’s Eastern temperament too long. He wasn’t an impulsive boy like Galbraith; he was a mature man. He couldn’t just grab a woman and expect her not to cause an uproar. He would have to be gentle and patient and let her become accustomed to the idea that she belonged—He was doing it again, dammit. She didn’t belong to him. She was an independent woman.

  He strolled restlessly to the French doors and out into the courtyard. The night air was soft and fragrant with hibiscus and honeysuckle. Would she like it here? She was rather like a flower herself—soft and fragrant, yet with a quiet strength that revealed her sturdy roots. He would like to see her in this serene oasis with its mosaic fountain and flowering shrubs … or better still, in his garden at home in Marasef. He shook his head ruefully. Now he sounded like his old friend David Bradford, with his gardener’s passion for flowers. This was evidently his night for behaving out of character. He was a man of action, not a poet or a gardener. He straightened his shoulders and turned back to the house.

  And now it was time for him to do what he did best. Lisa had said she was leaving in the morning, and that meant there wasn’t much time to accomplish his purpose. He’d have to phone Galbraith and Berthold and give orders and instructions. There’d be no trouble with Galbraith, but Berthold might balk. He showed definite signs of becoming a problem. The easy life did that to some people. Clancy’s pace quickened with brisk determination as he entered the library. His former weariness was forgotten as he headed for the phone on the desk. There wasn’t time to indulge himself to that extent. He had a kidnapping to arrange.