Her Secret Agent Man (5 page)

He crouched in the lee of a giant tree trunk, completely still. A lone figure moved into view, and he sighed in relief. He’d know that slender outline and graceful stride anywhere. She was early. He grinned and stood up. Wanted to spend a couple of extra minutes with him, did she?

He stepped out into the path, and even in the heavy shad
ows, he saw her features light up at the sight of him. Damn, that sort of reaction from a pretty girl made a guy feel good.

“Hey you,” he murmured as she drew near.

She kept coming until she’d walked straight into his arms. “Hey you,” she whispered back. “I missed you.”

His arms tightened around her. “I missed you, too. How was your day?”

“I never thought tonight would get here,” she confessed shyly. “I got scared again this afternoon.”

This whole business had been hard on her. She was only twenty, barely more than a girl, yet here she was doing the work of a seasoned Special Forces soldier. He stroked her silky hair comfortingly.

She jolted against him as a leopard screamed somewhere nearby. “I hate the jungle,” she declared. “I hate Gavarone.”

“It’s almost over. And then you can get out of here and never come back. I’ll take you back to the States myself if you’d like.”

She leaned back and smiled up at him. “I’d like that. I’d like to see your Montana.”

Her eyes glowed and his heart felt as if it was going to burst out of his chest. The sultry night vibrated around them, alive and breathing with lush life. Julia’s lips parted slightly as she gazed up at him, their fullness glistening in what little moonlight filtered down through the canopy above.

He shouldn’t do it. He should leave well enough alone. But she flowed like golden honey in his arms, warm and smooth, and he’d wanted to do this ever since he met her. He angled his head down and touched her mouth with his. And sweet God, she leaned into him and all but devoured him back. No hesitation, no coyness. She might be a girl, but she damn well kissed like a woman. Before he knew what he was doing, he’d lifted her off her feet against him and completely lost himself
in her. Her fingers speared into his hair, tugging him closer, and he surrendered to her every bit as fully as she’d surrendered to him. How long they stood there, all but inhaling each other in mutual, desperate need, he had no idea.

A voice called out her name from behind them. Crap. Her bodyguard!

They broke apart, panting.

She murmured quickly, “My father has a meeting at midnight two nights from now at his compound. It’s important. He’ll be there for sure.”

“How’s he going to get there?” he asked fast.

“By car. Two more cars in front of him and one behind. All armored. Twelve to sixteen bodyguards. He’ll be a few minutes late and make his visitor wait for him.”

He nodded. “We’ll meet you behind the gazebo on the south side of the main driveway at 11:30 p.m. Don’t be late. Your safety will depend on it.”

She nodded her understanding, her eyes huge and frightened.

“Miss Ferrare? Where are you?”

Dutch looked over his shoulder. Time to go. But he couldn’t resist stealing a few more seconds with her. He gave her a quick, hard hug and kissed her fast. The fear in her eyes morphed into adoration. He released her and gave her a gentle push toward her bodyguard. “Scoot. I’ll see you in two days, and we’ll begin your new life, together.”

With a last, melting smile, she hurried off down the path. He stepped back quickly, melting silently into the darkness…

He jerked awake, battle ready. Something or someone had just touched him. Dark. Silent. No movement. The bedroom of a ski chalet materialized around him. Julia. Her soft hand rested on his upper arm. Their embrace in the jungle was still so fresh, so raw, he started to roll over and take her in his arms again.

Whoa. Reality check, here. That was a dream. Just a dream.

Or was it?

He could smell the rotten vegetation, feel the mosquitoes landing on his neck, recall exactly the wispy slide of her skirt wrapping around his thighs as they kissed. And that kiss. He couldn’t dream up something that vivid if he tried. And that meant…

It was a memory!
A piece of that missing month in his life. Julia must have triggered it. Holy cow. If he spent more time with her, would she trigger more recollections? Was it possible for him to regain that entire lost month?

A voice whispered in his head, did he really want to regain that particular month of his life? Did he want to relive the loss of his baby brother, and the loss of a girl he was crazy about, if that dream was accurate?

He stared up at the ceiling in dismay. He’d been half in love with Julia Ferrare? No wonder he was having such a weird reaction to her now. One second he wanted to wring her neck, and the next he wanted to wrap her in his arms and never let her go. Now what in the bloody hell was he supposed to do?

He muttered a curse under his breath.

To most of the people whose lives he entered, he was Death. They could run from him and they could hide, but he’d hunt them down. He always did. The frightened faces of the dozens of criminals he’d nailed through the years floated through his mind. What stuck with him wasn’t the moment he killed them. It was always the moment when he first met them face-to-face. When they still hoped to get out alive. Before they realized he was their inexorable fate.

Julia had looked like that when he’d caught her trying to sneak out earlier. Was she a criminal like the others? Disquiet rippled through him. He didn’t want to turn the hunter in him
self loose on her, no matter his earlier intentions or what he’d told her tonight.

Had that dark, inhuman part of himself that he held in check so carefully finally broken out? Was that what took over his mind during that inexplicable blackout earlier? Was he losing control of the beast within? An unfamiliar emotion rolled over him, choking him until he struggled to breathe.
Fear.
He’d fought for so long to tame the monster, to keep the violent part of himself reined in. The psychologists had warned him it was a delicate dance and that he was skating very close to the edge. But was it too late? Had the beast won?

Julia shifted restlessly, troubled by her dreams. She rolled over and flung an arm and a leg across his body. He froze beneath her. Lust pounded through him, roaring in his ears and demanding release upon the sleek female draped across him with such abandon. The turmoil bubbling in his brain intensified.

It would be so easy to roll over, to pull her beneath him, to bury himself in her sweetness and ravage her mindlessly. To succumb to his baser self once and for all.

No! Forcibly he held himself still, letting her use his body as she would for safety and warmth. He would protect her. Guard her innocence with his life if he had to. He would
not
harm her. Not yet.

The litany replayed itself in his head endlessly as the night stretched out around him. Slowly, slowly, he won the battle against his dark side. One muscle at a time, he gradually let go of his tension, gradually went still in spirit as the beast retreated from his mind. He’d won. This time. Julia’s innocence and her life remained intact as she slept on beside him.

But as the light of dawn seeped insidiously between the curtains, fear sidled into his mind once more. What was it about this woman that brought him so close to the brink? Did
he dare stay with her? Would keeping his promise to protect her destroy him? Would he take her with him when he went?

With morning came howling winds, blizzard conditions and subzero windchill. He built a fire and made a pot of coffee while Julia slept the deep, hard sleep of someone who’d been on the run for weeks and had finally found a safe place to rest. While the storm raged outside, he pondered the dilemma of the woman in his bed.

Late in the morning she emerged, swallowed in his bathrobe, her hair tangled, and squinting at the bright light. She’d never looked more beautiful.

“Hi,” she mumbled shyly.

“Good morning. Sleep all right?”

“Mmm, wonderfully. Sorry about…uh…interrupting your rest last night.”

He smiled briefly. “No harm done. Just so long as we’re clear that you’re staying with me.” He got up and headed for the kitchen. “Do you like coffee?” he called.

“Manna from heaven,” she called back.

He grinned. “Cream or sugar?”

“Both.”

“How much?”

She laughed. “Think coffee-flavored ice cream and you’ll have it about right.”

He handed her a steaming mug and sat down across from her at the table. He pushed the
Wall Street Journal
toward her and she leaped upon it like a starving dog.

He watched her silently as she devoured the newspaper front to back. Okay, so maybe the banker thing was legit. He was too damn suspicious sometimes. She checked several stock quotes and spent a long time perusing international monetary fund prices. He’d bet his next paycheck that was where her father’s illegal money was invested.

Surreptitiously, he watched Julia stand up and do a few stretching exercises. She must do yoga or something similar, for she was as limber as a pretzel. A couple of seriously depraved ideas of what they could with that flexibility of hers flashed across his brain. Damned if that wasn’t sweat popping out on his forehead. If he didn’t get out of here right now, he was going to attack her like some slavering animal and try out a few of his ideas. “I’ve got to get out of here,” he announced, standing up abruptly.

He had to put some distance between them right now. Otherwise, she’d be in grave danger. From himself.

“I
’m going to take a shower,” he growled. “While I’m gone, don’t open the door for anybody.
Anybody.
I don’t care if Jesus Christ rises up and knocks in person. Don’t open it. Got it?”

She nodded, appropriately wide-eyed at his vehemence. He stalked into the bedroom, his adrenaline pumping hard. He needed to do something strenuous to burn it off. Like have sex. Hot, sweaty, wild sex. Dammit. He turned on the shower to cover the noise of his conversation and pulled out his cell phone. He punched out the number for Charlie Squad headquarters.

“Go ahead.”

Dutch recognized the voice of his commander, Colonel Tom Folly. He bit out, “Dutch here. I need a favor.”

“You name it. And how’s the snow, by the way?”

Dutch answered impatiently, “Packed powder until this
morning. But it’s blowing like a big mother out there now. Zero visibility and thirty below zero windchill.”

“Bummer. So, what can I do for you?”

“I need to extend my leave for a while.”

“Dutch! I’m so proud of you! Your first vacation in five years and you’re actually enjoying yourself. Who’d have guessed?”

He flinched at the colonel’s mirth. “Can I have, say, another week of leave?”

“Hell, make it two, buddy. What happened? No, wait. Let me guess. You met a girl. She must be a babe and a half.”

Might as well let the colonel think it was a woman. And after all, technically, it was. “Yeah, she’s gorgeous,” Dutch replied.

“Who is she?”

He winced. “Mind if I pass on answering that one, sir?”

Folly chuckled. “Nah, go ahead and be a gentleman. Just don’t catch any diseases, eh?”

For some reason, the casual remark set Dutch’s teeth on edge. “Thanks for extending my leave,” he ground out.

“No sweat,” the colonel replied.

Damned if he didn’t hear laughter in his boss’s voice. Dutch disconnected the phone and tossed it on the bed in disgust. He stomped into the bathroom to take a shower for real. A long, cold one, dammit.

Julia listened to the water turn on in the bathroom. Every fiber in her being screamed for her to take this opportunity to run. But where would she go? What would she do? She believed Dutch without reservation when he promised he’d keep her safe until her father was behind bars. He was nothing if not a man of his word. In the light of morning she could see it was best to go ahead as planned for now. She’d keep trying to contact Eduardo and make a deal.

In fact, now that she had Dutch’s protection, it was probably time to apply a little pressure to daddy dearest. And she knew exactly how to do it. She grinned at the idea that had popped into her head when she woke up this morning. She could transfer the money she’d taken from him into Charlie Squad’s bank account. Surely they had some sort of quick-draw checking account for use during operations in the field. If she could find that account number, she could tweak her father’s nose in a big way. A way guaranteed to draw his attention. Eduardo would rupture something when he found out.

Now, where would Dutch keep something like a bank account number? The sort of offshore account she was looking for typically had up to a twenty-digit number with long access codes, as well. She gave him a couple of minutes to get settled into his shower and then slipped into the bedroom.

She glanced around and spied his cell phone lying on the bed. She reached for it, then hesitated.

What had her decision to run away from her father turned her into? Here she was, sneaking around like a criminal, invading the privacy of a decent guy. She pictured Carina’s face. All this was for the sister she’d raised like her own daughter. She had to stop their father, once and for all.

She snatched up Dutch’s cell phone and flipped it open. Drat. Not a model that stored dates or notes, or more to the point, bank account numbers. She’d have to look somewhere else.

Thoughtfully, she punched the redial button on Dutch’s phone to bring up the last number called. Her hands began to shake as she stared at the digital display. The letters CS glowed up at her.
Charlie Squad.
The phone number burned into her brain. Oh Lord. Had he told his team about her? Called for backup maybe? If so, she’d be in custody or dead within a matter of hours.

Her breathing raced frantically and she grew light-headed. She’d be killed before she ever got a chance to save Carina and the countless other people her father would harm or kill someday. The water in the bathroom turned off and she nearly dropped the phone. She replaced it quickly on the bed and raced from the room.

She buried her nose in a random book from the stocked shelf in the living room. Frozen in terror, she forced her eyes to travel across the page as if she was actually comprehending the book she held numbly.

Thankfully, Dutch paid no attention to her ruse. He spent most of the day reading and resting. She wouldn’t call it relaxing, exactly. He varied between states of action and inaction, but he never let down his guard.

The vicious winds finally let up in the late afternoon, leaving behind a blanket of soft powder snow, perfect for skiing. She eyed it wistfully for no more than two minutes before Dutch spoke up behind her. “Wanna hit the slopes?”

She looked over at him eagerly. “Really?” Lord, she could use a physical release of the tension that’d been churning inside her all day. “But won’t that be dangerous with my father’s men looking for us?”

He shrugged. “This place has its own mountain. A private one. They won’t find us.” He added casually, “I don’t know about you, but I really could use the exercise.”

“Let’s do it,” she said eagerly.

She could swear he checked the small of his back before he ushered her out the door. Armed, was he? His casual gesture restored the constant, edgy fear she lived with these days at the same time that it reassured her.

The resort’s ski pro outfitted them for boots and skis and whisked them up the mountain in the resort’s sleek helicopter. It landed on the summit and they climbed out into blind
ingly bright sunlight glittering off pristine snow. Nary a ski track marred its smooth perfection.

Dutch pulled out a pair of mirrored shades and slipped them on, neatly covering his gaze. He grinned, sharklike, and set off down the mountain. At first, it was smooth going, a wide expanse of snow over the gradual slope of a glacier. The occasional mogul and gully made it an intermediate-or-so slope.

But then the trail split. He turned his skis sideways, skidding to a stop and throwing up a rooster tail of powder. “Do you like to live dangerously?” he asked her.

Why the heck not. She was a dead woman walking, anyway. “Sure,” she retorted.

He set off to the left, choosing one more isolated route after another. She followed him downward as the mountain got steadily steeper and trickier. Without warning, Dutch significantly picked up the speed. He let his skis race flat out over the snow. She crouched in a racer’s tuck to eke out every last bit of speed from her own skis to keep up with him. The slope leveled out, but with their accumulated speed, they managed to keep momentum over the wide, flat area. She’d just started to pole her way forward when Dutch looked over his shoulder.

“How are you at jumps?” he called.

“Not great, but I’ve done a few,” she shouted back.

“Lean back and stay vertical!” he instructed.

And then he disappeared over the edge of a cliff. Without any more warning than that, her skis dropped out from under her and she plunged over the edge of a nearly vertical drop. Had Dutch not said something, she’d no doubt have broken her neck.

As it was, her adrenaline surged and she struggled to keep her weight back as the slope fell away from her in a dizzying
descent. She mimicked Dutch, twisting her skis from side to side as she dropped from ledge to snowy ledge. She dodged a nasty rock outcropping and kept on going, doggedly following his red back down the impossible slope.

When her legs were screaming in protest and her nerves at the breaking point, the near cliff gave way to a gentler slope and heavy woods. Dutch pulled up short and waited for her to join him. She schussed over the last couple of moguls and swiveled to a stop beside him.

“Lady, you are one hell of a skier,” he panted.

She nodded back, too out of breath from the exertion and the altitude to speak.

“Well, that was fun. Took care of a whole lot of my pent-up energy,” Dutch huffed. “How ’bout you?”

She spared a glance over her shoulder for the mountain they’d just traveled, and shuddered. It looked like a nearly vertical cliff, peppered with rock outcroppings and drops. Not the kind of hill approved for any human in their right mind to ski down.

“I must have a death wish to have followed you down that monster,” she panted.

“No doubt. You called me, didn’t you?” he retorted.

Good point. She’d never considered herself much of a risk taker. The one time in her life, ten years ago, that she’d done something dangerous, it had turned into a total nightmare and a man had died. Ever since, she’d sworn off anything more exciting than transferring funds from bank to bank to hide their origin. Until the last few weeks that led her back to Dutch.

“C’mon,” Dutch said behind her. “I’m hungry.”

Dutch picked a medium-difficulty, scenic route through the woods. It felt like a walk in the park after that cliff of doom. The snow slid like velvet beneath her feet, soft and sleek as
they skied between towering stands of pine and aspen. Dutch stayed beside her, matching his speed to hers. He was smooth and powerful and flowed down the mountain as if he’d been born on it. For a little while, she put aside their dangerous dance of cross-purposes and lost herself in the freedom of gliding between the majestic rows of snowbound trees. They came out onto a prepared ski run. Although the snow wasn’t groomed, it was clear that this broad path through the trees was artificial.

A few minutes later, Dutch surprised her by veering off onto a remote side trail. It was a narrow, winding course that traversed an arcing fissure down the mountain face. Long shadows striped it in patches of darkness and light. This trail was quite a bit more difficult than the last one, and she paid close attention to her skiing.

In front of her, Dutch called out, “Follow me.”

Oh, Lord. Had he seen something she hadn’t? A threat of some kind? Adrenaline shot through her, and her knees went weak. He veered off to the left and she followed him into a side ravine. The trail was barely wider than a single pair of skis, and snow-laden boughs brushed her shoulders. The dim tunnel of trees went on for several minutes. Abruptly, they popped out into a wide clearing. It housed a large, log structure and a nearly full parking lot of cars. They skied up to the building’s double front doors.

“Hungry?” he asked.

It was a restaurant! “Famished,” she replied enthusiastically. They checked their ski equipment and slipped on felt slippers provided by the restaurant. She padded to their table, a booth, actually, with Dutch.

She slid into her seat, vividly aware of how he completely filled the intimate space. “How did you know about this place?” she asked.

He smiled at her, robbing her of breath. “Like it?”

“If the food matches the decor, I’m going to love it!” The rough, log cabin-style interior, complete with antlers and old-fashioned snowshoes on the walls, belied the understated elegance of the crystal stemware and fine china on the tables. The menu confirmed the gourmet underpinnings of the place. She ordered a stuffed shoulder of veal while Dutch chose the roasted free-range pheasant.

“So, do you vacation here often?”

He shrugged. “Haven’t had a day off in five years. Until this week, of course.”

“Five years?” She tsked. “Is the world that unsafe for democracy or are you just a workaholic?”

He laughed aloud. The sound was rusty, as if he didn’t make it often. “A little bit of both, I suppose. Since I’m unattached, I take extra missions so the married guys can get a little more time with their families.”

No surprise there. Since they seemed to be operating under a temporary truce, she asked a question she’d been curious about for years. “Why do you do this job?”

“Because I like it.”

How could anybody like the stress and danger of being a Special Forces operative? She prodded, “What’s your favorite part?”

He answered without the slightest hesitation. “Saving the lives of innocents.”

“Do you do that often?” she asked, surprised.

“Often enough to keep me coming back for more.”

She’d never thought about Charlie Squad as a rescue outfit before. She’d always thought of them as more of a death squad. But maybe that was because she’d been working with the criminals.

He startled her by asking a question of his own. “When are you going to trust me and tell me what you’re hiding?”

Trust him? Now,
there
was a novel concept. She already trusted him enough to put her life in his hands. For now. Wasn’t that enough?

Apparently not, the way his blue gaze was boring into her.

“I do trust you. It’s just that—”

She broke off as he pinned her with yet another piercing stare. Okay. So she didn’t trust him
that
much.

He snapped his napkin off the table and unfolded it deliberately in his lap.

She asked in a rush, “Do you have any idea why I triggered your blackout?”

“Do you?” he challenged. Again that saber-sharp, sapphire stare.

Guilt slammed into her. It probably had something to do with that disastrous ambush ten years ago when her father almost managed to wipe out Charlie Squad. That had been the first time her father had threatened to kill Carina if Julia didn’t do his bidding. She’d hated setting up the Americans, but she’d had no choice. No choice at all. The hard edge faded from his gaze and she blinked, startled.
He was afraid of his blackout.
As tough as he pretended to be, as in control as he usually was, he was scared. Alone. How was it that she felt sorry for the man who’d sworn to kill her?

As she continued to watch him cautiously, something desperate flickered at the back of his eyes. She blinked. There it was again! There was no mistaking it. He was terrified. The sight of this man scared unnerved her more than the idea of being chased by a gang of paid killers. A visceral need to reach out to him, to hold him and comfort him, took shape low in her belly.