by Kay Hooper
Dane nodded and sat down in a chair while Raven joined her husband on the couch. “No problems, far as I can see. The governor’s due to arrive just after the park opens, so the crowd won’t be too large. Since all of you and the other people you’ve planted around the park will be near the Ferris wheel, we shouldn’t attract much more than mild interest.”
Josh nodded slightly. “Everyone’s been briefed. They’ll have a cover story if any visitors have questions.”
Lifting one eyebrow, Dane said, “A cover story?”
“We’re making a movie,” Raven interjected. She nodded toward a video camera lying nearby on a table. “Just some preliminary shots, you understand.”
Dane grinned. “Neat.”
She smiled in return, then said, “How’s Skye? I dropped by Katrina’s suite a couple of days ago but didn’t stay long. I got the feeling they wanted to be alone.”
Chuckling, Dane said, “Skye’s fine. He could have gone back to being himself three days ago, but when I told him to stay put, he didn’t argue. Gigi says she’ll have to find another manager for her hotel.”
“Speaking of Gigi,” Raven said, “how’s she doing?”
Dane eyed her. “Don’t you mean how’s your other little plot progressing?” he asked gently.
Josh smiled, but Raven looked innocent. “Plot? Why, I don’t know what you mean.”
Dane made a rude sound.
Raven didn’t lose her innocent expression, but her eyes gleamed merrily. Blandly she said, “Can I help it if Gigi’s a very attractive woman? And if Daniel Stuart’s a very handsome man?”
Dane had to laugh. “No, and don’t try to tell me that both of them aren’t in on it. Daniel’s just having too much fun, and Gigi’s almost purring.”
“What about Hagen?” Josh asked, grinning.
“Steamed,” Dane answered. “First Daniel got the directorship Hagen had earmarked for himself, and now he’s after Gigi. She’s playing it perfectly, a lot of dignity but definite interest, and Daniel’s showing all the signs of losing his heart. Hagen can hardly stand to be in the same room with Daniel, and he’s started watching over Gigi like a hawk.”
Raven pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Is the maestro just mad, or is he worried?”
Dane looked thoughtful, his eyes abstracted as he watched Josh light a cigarette. Slowly he answered, “I’d say that at first it was sheer rage. But when Gigi started to—uh—encourage Daniel, it shook Hagen up. He hasn’t had his mind on business the last couple of days.” Clearing his throat, Dane added, “I happened to remark to him this morning that catching an assassin would certainly make Daniel mad, since he’s been after Adrian as long as Hagen has. He perked right up.”
Raven giggled. “And you say I’m devious.”
“Well, I thought it’d be a shame if the final act of this little caper fell apart because Hagen had lost interest.”
“Nice going,” Josh told him.
“Thank you.” Dane was polite.
“I wonder if he needs another push,” Raven said thoughtfully.
Dane gazed at her for a moment, then said, “You’re ruthless.”
She widened her eyes at him. “Why? As Serena told me, you just arrange the circumstances to achieve a desired effect and point your players in the right direction. What happens is purely a matter of free will.”
Josh chuckled as Dane gave him a faintly horrified look. “I know, it sounds scary as hell. But since I grew up with Serena, it doesn’t shake me up anymore. I didn’t know Raven had the talent when I married her, but I must admit she keeps me on my toes.”
Raven looked at each of the men with pitying eyes. “I just decided that Hagen had been taking Gigi for granted, and she agreed with me. That’s a very stupid thing to do, taking a woman for granted, even after twenty years.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Josh murmured.
“So will I,” Dane echoed, thinking of his Jenny, she of the Italian heritage and fiery temper.
Raven grinned at them. It was good to remind a man of these things, she reflected.
—
Hagen had had enough. His temper was uncertain at the best of times, though generally wielded with fine dramatic timing, and it was never more likely to explode than when his inner vision of himself as omniscient was challenged. He hated surprises when they were directed at him rather than orchestrated by him, and Gigi had surprised him.
He had never been quite certain of her—something he had admitted to himself only recently—but he had never expected her to look at another man with a purely personal interest in her fine eyes. And that it had to be Daniel. Daniel!
So when Hagen stormed into Gigi’s suite without knocking late Friday afternoon, he was in the mood to pick a quarrel with an angel.
Nobody had ever accused Gigi of being an angel.
A book in hand, she had been relaxing in a corner of the long couch, but rose instantly to her feet, glaring at him. “How dare you!”
Hagen cast one thunderous look around the suite, and though he was relieved not to find Daniel there, it didn’t show on his face. “I won’t have it, Gigi!” he roared.
Gigi was a little woman, but there was nothing small about her temper. Drawing herself up to her full diminutive height, her eyes snapping, she said, “I have already told you, Hagen, you do not command me. My life is my own, and you have no right to interfere in it.”
To his own astonishment, Hagen felt his towering rage descend with a lurch into shaken uncertainty. “But what are you doing?” he very nearly moaned. “And with Daniel. You’ve stabbed me in the back, and after all these years!”
She stared at him, unrelenting.
Hagen heard words tumbling out, and couldn’t believe they were coming from him. “You’d hate Washington, you know you would! And there’s the park—your operation here—”
“I’m going to retire,” she said calmly. “I have begun shutting down the operation already. I shall move into the country and raise racehorses.”
He blinked. “What?”
Gigi kept her face straight with an effort. “Certainly. It will be amusing. And since I do not wish to live alone, I think I shall marry.”
He blanched. “Not Daniel!”
“And why not? He is a handsome, distinguished man, and a complete gentleman. He would never take a woman for granted.”
“Gigi—”
Inexorably she continued, “He is not arrogant, or manipulative, or egotistic, or deceitful. He respects my will, and would never try to make decisions for me. He would never rant and rave at me. He would not deviously try to arrange my life the moment my back is turned.”
Hagen stared at her for a moment, and then his cupid’s mouth curved suddenly in an unexpectedly humorous smile. “He’d bore you silly, my dear.”
Her lips twitched responsively before she could stop them. Recovering, she snapped, “And he loves me!”
“But you love me,” Hagen said.
With perfect calm she replied, “After twenty years I find that to love is not enough. I wish to be loved.”
Hagen crossed the space between them with startling grace and speed for a man of his bulk, and there was a surprising strength in the arms that closed about her. “Dammit, you know I love you,” he said almost irritably.
Gigi’s slim form adapted itself easily to his girth, but her lovely face remained unmoved. “I do not know that at all,” she told him.
He glared at her. “I’m telling you. I love you. I’ve loved you for twenty years. Why would I keep coming around and dodging that damned sharp tongue of yours if I didn’t love you?”
“Because nobody else stands up to you!” she retorted with spirit.
He chuckled suddenly. “True. You’re a difficult woman, my dear, and in twenty years you’ve never bored me.” He sighed, then said reflectively, “I suppose raising racehorses wouldn’t be so bad. There’s a certain challenge in that.”
“I don’t recall inviting you,” she said swee
tly.
Back on balance again, Hagen gave her an indulgent look. “Of course you did, Gigi. This little game you’ve been playing with Daniel was the invitation.”
She eyed him ruefully. “Damn you.”
He laughed again, but with rare grace admitted, “Well, it worked. Scared the hell out of me when I thought I was losing you. We’ll get married as soon as possible.”
As if addressing some third party, Gigi said, “I should have known he would tell rather than ask.”
Hagen opened his eyes wide. “If you didn’t mean to marry me, my dear, I’d like to know what kind of game you’ve been playing with me for twenty years.”
Gigi might have sputtered at this unfair statement, but he didn’t give her the chance. Not that she minded.
—
Katrina had been a little worried that Skye might not trust in her love this time, but as the days passed it became obvious that whatever he had needed to make him certain he had found. The hard, searching look vanished from his eyes, and though he would never be a tranquil man, he was clearly less restless and far more at peace with himself.
Having once gained his feet, he healed with astonishing speed, and by the third day, Wednesday, had abandoned the elastic bandage over his ribs; he had also talked the doctor into reducing his other bandages, saying that his wounds would heal far more quickly if they weren’t smothered by gauze.
Katrina, with glorious memories of his lovemaking in her mind, couldn’t find the will to protest. Except for that first night, he hadn’t made a single concession to his injuries. And since the admission of love between them had intensified an already overpowering desire, Katrina was all too aware that Skye’s strength had returned full force.
Still, as she watched him shrugging easily into his shoulder harness early Saturday morning, she felt a pang of worry. It wasn’t supposed to be dangerous, of course, but then, Adrian shouldn’t have escaped either.
“Skye, I want to be there.”
After pulling on a light Windbreaker, he came to her and pulled her into his arms, smiling down at her. “The gun’s just for show,” he reminded her. “Hagen would think I was crazy if I wasn’t armed.”
“I know that.”
His smile widened. “I love you too.”
Katrina sighed a little. “You’re just so reckless. Can I help it if I worry about you?”
“Mmmm. Maybe we’d better talk about that. I don’t exactly have a risk-free job, sweetheart.”
She forced her voice to remain steady. “I know.”
He waited, gravely watching her.
A little fiercely she said, “I don’t have any right to ask you.”
Skye’s eyes narrowed. “Then I’ll ask you. I don’t mind my wife being a hotel manager, but I sure as hell don’t want her to be an agent.”
“I’m not your wife,” she said in a small voice.
“Oh, but you are, sweetheart.”
Katrina stared at him. “You divorced me.”
He looked a bit sheepish, but his eyes were alight. “Well, no. I set the legal wheels in motion, but I never went through with it. We’re still married.”
She tried to push him away. “And you never told me all this time?”
He kissed her until she didn’t have the breath to rail at him, then said, “I love you. I loved you too much then to cut the last tie between us. And I want to marry you again, Trina.” His face softened. “Will you marry me, sweetheart?”
“Yes.” A few moments later she added uncertainly, “You should have told me, though. I wasn’t sure if you wanted a future with me.”
“I want a long and settled future with you,” he told her in a definite voice. “So I’ll retire as an agent if you will.”
Katrina searched his eyes. “Are you sure, Skye? If you gave up something you loved because of me—”
He shook his head, smiling. “Ten years is a long time, and I’m tired of the dark. Dane and I are both ready to quit, I think.”
She swallowed hard. “What would you do?”
“There’s a ranch in Montana I’ve had my eye on. It’s a wild place; it’ll need a lot of work.” Skye was watching her intently.
Katrina pulled his head down so she could kiss him. “It sounds wonderful. I love you….”
His arm tightened around her, and his eyes were luminous. A bit roughly he said, “I’ll probably be a hell of a husband, sweetheart, but they’ll put me in the ground before I stop loving you. Don’t ever forget that.”
Chuckling, she said, “If I’ve learned anything, it’s that I should always wait a few hours after you’ve said something in a temper, and then ask you if you meant it.”
He had to laugh. “Well, I’m glad you’ve learned that.”
The sudden peal of the telephone made Katrina say, “Hagen, wondering where you are.”
“Yes.” Skye released her reluctantly. “It’s time to bring down the curtain.”
—
Hagen was feeling marvelously pleased with himself. He hadn’t been able to resist preening a bit when he told Daniel that Gigi was going to marry him, and that rival’s crestfallen expression had been an ample reward. It never occurred to him, of course, that Daniel had been playing the same game that Gigi had. He invited Daniel to observe the capture of Adrian, and was even more pleased when Gigi decided to watch as well.
He enjoyed an admiring audience when he was being particularly great.
And the operation went off just as he’d planned. Really, he thought, Skye Prescott was a total professional; though his Katrina had accompanied him to the park, she waited with Gigi, and Prescott was calm and cool. He had listened to Hagen’s instructions gravely, and had accepted them with respect.
Hagen wondered if perhaps he had been too hasty in deciding to raise racehorses. If he could manage to entice Prescott away from Daniel, and with that promising beginning rebuild his organization into what it had been…It wouldn’t hurt, he decided, to test the waters with Prescott. One never knew, after all.
Hagen stood near the Ferris wheel, but at such an angle that he wouldn’t be visible to a watcher on the fun house roof. He looked around, absently taking note of the costumed employees; there seemed to be more of them than usual, and he thought indulgently that they no doubt wanted a glimpse of the governor. He consulted his pocket watch, his cupid’s lips pursing slightly, then looked at the Ferris wheel.
There had to be an accomplice, of course, or else how could Adrian be certain the governor would be seated in the correct car? He eyed the operator narrowly. A young man who looked cheerful and not in the least dangerous. But then, how many of them really looked dangerous?
Prescott had already disappeared around the fun house, and Hagen checked his watch again. The governor, he decided, should be coming into the park about now. He looked in the right direction and, within minutes, saw a man in a dark suit surrounded by unobtrusive bodyguards; the crowd milling about hardly noticed.
Hagen looked back at his watch until the sweep hand touched a number, then snapped it closed and returned it to the pocket of his vest. And, right on schedule, he saw Prescott coming back around the fun house with one hand on the shoulder of the man in front of him. The man’s hands were behind his back, and he looked subdued.
Strolling toward them, Hagen studied Adrian curiously. So, he thought, the sketches had been right. A big man, over six feet, with prematurely silver hair. A very big man, in fact, as large as Prescott. In fact—Hagen stopped abruptly as the two men approached, and he had the uncertain sensation of the earth shifting beneath his feet.
But that was nonsense. Firmly he said, “Luther Adrian, I hereby arrest you for the crimes of international terrorism.” He blinked, staring at his captured killer. In a totally different voice he said, “What the hell—”
“He really doesn’t look much like Adrian,” a cheerful voice said from off to the right. “It’s just a wig, you know, and makeup.”
Hagen turned his head slowly and stared. Ther
e were two clowns with unpainted faces. He knew those faces. Josh Long held a whirring video camera on one shoulder, and Raven had spoken. Still completely blank, Hagen looked back at his captured killer. Skye Prescott was standing beside him with his arms folded and a smile of unholy amusement on his face—and the killer, whose hands were clearly unbound, was taking off his silver hair. The killer, Hagen realized, looked an awful lot like Skye Prescott.
“This damned wig itches like hell,” he complained. He sounded like Prescott too, but he drawled. He looked at Hagen and said helpfully, “I’m not Adrian.”
Hagen found breath. “The governor—”
“The governor isn’t here either,” Josh Long told him, video camera still whirring. “The gentleman you took to be the governor is one of the hotel waiters. His bodyguards were busboys.”
“The bomb—” Hagen tried again.
“Modeling clay,” Skye Prescott told him gently. “You should have gotten an analysis, Hagen. That was careless of you.”
Raven strolled toward him, smiling. “What you don’t seem to understand, maestro, is that you’ve been royally conned. Luther Adrian was never here. In fact, a couple of Daniel’s men have him in custody some miles from here. With a little help from us, Skye tracked him down weeks ago.”
Hagen had totally lost command of the situation, but he wasn’t about to accept it. With a fine show of rage, he roared, “How dare you people interfere with a federal operation!”
“Pretty when he’s angry, isn’t he?” a new voice commented with satisfaction.
Hagen turned his head slowly. They were all there, he realized. All of them. They had been practically under his nose for two weeks, all wearing costumes. There was Rafferty Lewis, and Zach Steele—the one who had just spoken—and Lucas Kendrick, all accompanied by their smiling wives. There was Kelsey. And Derek Ross, with a petite brunette who was clearly his wife. Hagen looked back at the two standing before him, and the bogus Adrian spoke.
“Twins,” he murmured. “In fact, you’ve been calling me Skye for the past week. But I’m Dane.” He slipped an arm around the giggling blonde dressed as a chorus dancer who had come out of nowhere to join him. “This is Jenny. My wife.”
