Prescription: Makeover (12 page)

He shuddered, the motion transmitting throughout his big body as he withdrew from her, pulling away to stare down at her, his ribs heaving with great draughts of air, his eyes dark with passion. Then they darkened further as he looked around. “God. We’re under a damned bridge.”

“Then let’s find someplace better,” Ike suggested, having no doubt they were on the same page. They needed to scratch the itch or go mad, relieve the tension lest it distract them from their pursuit of Odin.

The very thought of taking William inside her, of unleashing all the raw power promised in his kiss, had Ike’s inner muscles clenching on a warm rush of desire and had her heart stuttering ever so slightly on a hitch of nerves. Her previous lovers — and there had been more than she cared to admit — had been good men, strong enough for a no-strings, no-frills relationship. And if none of them had ever progressed to the point of love, none of them had truly hurt when the end came a few weeks or months later.

William was already different. Her feelings for him were already different. Yet even that wasn’t enough to dissuade her, because since when did Ike Rombout back down from a challenge?

You’re not Ike right now,
a small, sly voice whispered.
You’re Eleanor.

William exhaled and pulled even farther away from her. “We should talk.”

“Fair enough. I’m a big fan of going in with my eyes open.” Ike straightened and tugged at her dress. “Lord knows I’ve never been shy, so I’ll start.” She took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, aware that his eyes flicked to her breasts, aware that her nipples peaked beneath his regard. Her blood churned, yearned, as she said, “We can make this work, keep it totally separate from the case. Hell, scratching the itch’ll probably help us focus rather than distracting us. I don’t know about you, but I’m just about cross-eyed right now. If you don’t kiss me in the next minute or so, I’m going to implode.”

Tension thrummed through her, collecting in a hard knot at her core, a clench of muscles anticipating his kiss and his touch.

Instead of kissing her, William actually winced. “That wasn’t what I was going to say at all.”

The icy slap of rejection stung her with unfamiliar venom, seizing her lungs and stealing the oxygen from the air around her. “Then what exactly were you going to say?”

“That I can’t do this.” The awkward regret in his expression was more painful than a gut punch. “I’m sorry,” he said again, wounding her with his pity. “I didn’t mean for it to go that far. Hell, I didn’t mean for it to get started in the first place. But it needs to stop.”

Her lips felt stiff and odd when she said, “Why?”

“Because the woman I’m attracted to doesn’t really exist.”

W
ILLIAM’S EXES
might’ve been unanimous in calling him honest to a fault — even to the point of coldness — but he’d always figured it was best to get the tough stuff out there and be done with it. However, when hurt flashed in Ike’s eyes for a split second before her expression blanked, he wished he could’ve taken the words back.

There probably wasn’t a better way to say it, but there might have been a better time.

Her movements were stiff as she returned to her seat and buckled her belt, pulling it snug across her breasts. “My bad. I guess I just figured we could enjoy each other rather than driving ourselves crazy thinking about what it might be like.” She paused. “And I meant what I said earlier. Thanks for everything you did today, from talking me down in the closet to pulling me out when those flowers came. I appreciate the backup.”

“No problem. Just doing my job.” He put the SUV into drive, swiped at his window and got them moving again, foot heavy on the accelerator until he consciously eased off, knowing he couldn’t outrun the temptation sitting beside him; he’d have to be strong enough to stay focused on his own hook.

“Where are we headed?” she asked, faking calm.

“To the hotel to get our things,” William said. “We’ll have to assume the whole plan is compromised — we’ll ditch the vehicle and find something else to drive, book into a new hotel. I’ll call Max and have him get in touch with Kupfer, maybe through Zach Cage. Odin needs to gain control of the adjunct recipe before he goes public, so we’ll need to get Kupfer and his people protected 24-7 from now until Friday’s press conference.” He cut her a look. “I’d love to send you back to Boston, but we both know you wouldn’t stay put.”

“Meaning?” she asked, voice tight.

“Meaning you’re a target, and I don’t trust for an instant that you’ll be able to keep yourself out of the action. That makes you my problem for the next few days.” When anger flared in her eyes alongside something softer and less sure, he glanced away. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re a typical female and I’ve hurt your feelings.” Wincing again at how badly he was managing to put things, he said, “We both know this isn’t you, Ike. You’re not into dresses or teamwork and you normally dislike the hell out of me. If there’s some chemistry going on between us right now, it’s just because of the situation.”

She looked away and muttered. “I don’t dislike you. You’ve sort of grown on me, like mold or something.”

And for a split second she sounded like the Ike he remembered, which just made things worse. He paused, then sighed heavily before honesty compelled him to say, “Same goes, and that’s an even bigger problem. You see —” He broke off as they reached their hotel. “Come on. We need to keep moving.”

They climbed out of the SUV and entered the hotel together, with William staying slightly behind and to the right of her, tense and ready to react if Odin had an ambush in place.
Soon we’ll be together.
That sounded more like a promise than a threat, and the thought of either had him strung tight.

Hell, he acknowledged inwardly, there was nothing about this situation that didn’t have him wired.

Once they were headed to their rooms with no sign of an ambush, he said, “I was on a job once that went real bad real fast and a female agent died. I’m not about to let that happen again.”

She sent him a look that was pure Ike beneath the soft hair and makeup. “Was she the only fellow agent you ever saw die?”

“Her name was Sharilee and unfortunately, no, she wasn’t the only agent I’ve ever seen die.”

“Did you love her?”

Alarm bells went off in William’s head, but he said, “No. I knew her to chat with, nothing more.”

“Then you’re stuck on her being a woman,” Ike said flatly. “That’s insulting.”

“It’s life,” he argued. “We live in a society where men are raised to respect women. A man can hit another man, but he’s an abusive jerk if he hits a woman.” He held up a hand. “I’m not saying that’s wrong, it’s the way it should be. But given that, how can you expect us to forget your sex under other circumstances?”

“That’s your problem, not mine. I didn’t ask you to look out for me.”

“Max did.”

“He doesn’t have the right,” she said levelly as the elevator let them out on their floor. “If I want to put my life in danger, that’s my choice. It’s my life, and nobody can tell me what to do with it.”

For a second he thought he caught an echo of loneliness in the statement, which had him softening his immediate response. “Max is your friend, Ike. He wants to see you come out of this alive. So do I.”

The last three words came out of nowhere, surprising him with their truth.

Uncertainty flickered in her eyes, but then her expression hardened. “I don’t intend to commit suicide, but nor do I intend to hide while the men folk take care of Odin. I owe Zed, and Lukas Kupfer is a good man with a noble goal. Odin is going down, and I intend to be there.”

Because he could relate even if he didn’t agree, William tipped his head as he keyed them into his room. “Then we’re at an impasse.”

Knowing it was almost a relief, since it gave him another reason to stay away.

She lifted one shoulder. “That’s nothing new.” But as she opened the connecting door between their rooms and started gathering lightweight computer bags, she said with almost forced casualness, “Guess that means no more kissing, huh?”

“I think we both know that was a mistake we shouldn’t repeat. Besides, you can ditch the disguise now. Once you’re back to normal, it shouldn’t be an issue.”

The insult was deliberate, and he knew damn well he deserved it when she slammed the connecting door in his face. He stood there a moment, waiting for the relief, for the knowledge that he’d done what he’d needed to do for her safety, for his own sanity.

All he found was disappointment and a faint suspicion that he’d done it more for his own good than hers.

Ike was a professional, so she kept it together while they checked out of one hotel and checked into another equally generic hotel on the other side of Springfield. She allowed nothing but business in her voice when she called Max and then Zach Cage, arranging for HFH to contact Lukas Kupfer, explain the situation and send protection. And she held her cool as she set up Tom, Dick and Harry in her new hotel room and changed out of the dress, replacing it with a pair of jeans and a pale pink sweatshirt, which had been Stephen’s idea of Eleanor-goes-casual.

But inwardly she was a mess, as the day’s event collapsed onto her in a big, tumultuous blob of unhappiness that included Odin’s flowers, her claustrophobia attack and William’s kiss, and then culminated in the knowledge that he’d been kissing Eleanor. He was attracted to the disguise, not her.

Rage swirled inside her, the cumulative fury of a lifetime worth of being second best, of being a workout buddy rather than a woman, a quick fling rather than a heartbreaker. But instead of showing the hurt, she held herself aloof, hiding behind the shell she’d perfected long ago, when they’d buried her brother and she’d stood at the gravesite a half dozen paces from her parents, who hadn’t needed or wanted to include her in their grief.

Feeling that same sharp hurt now and damning whatever of Eleanor’s vulnerability had leaked into her, she raised her voice so William could hear her in his adjoining room. “I’m online. Who should I start with — Grosskill or Johnson and Leon?”

She might not like William very much at the moment, but that didn’t change the fact that he was a trained agent. It would be stupid for her not to use the resources she had at hand, and people rarely accused her of stupidity. Other faults, perhaps, but not stupidity.

He appeared in the doorway, crossed the room and leaned over her, close enough that she had to grit her teeth and ignore the flare of heat. Even knowing he’d been kissing Eleanor didn’t dampen the memory of how his body had pressed solidly against hers and how he’d caressed her with lazy, devastating skill.

She’d been too long without a man, that was all, Ike assured herself. She just needed to blow off some steam. It wasn’t about William.

And if that rang faintly false, she was the only one to know it.

“Grosskill’s a bad agent, but he’s not an idiot,” William said grudgingly. “His involvement will be buried seriously deep. Better start with the fourth floor lab and see if you can get any dirt on Johnson or Leon.”

“Will do.” Ike cracked her knuckles and bent to the task, more relieved than she cared to admit to be back at her keyboards, working programs that knew nothing of lust or emotion.

She called up basic Internet searches on Tom, then used a couple of her long-established back door entry programs to sneak Dick and Harry into databases at the FDA and National Institute of Health. She remained aware of William still leaning over her and was conscious of the faint tickle of his breath against the back of her neck. Finally she glanced over at him. “Was there something else?”

His face was very close to hers, almost close enough to kiss, until he straightened away from her and stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I’m sorry about what I said before. You know, about liking Eleanor better.”

Ike’s banked irritation resurfaced with a snap. “Don’t apologize for telling the truth.”

He nodded and backed up a few steps but didn’t leave. “What are you doing for dinner?”

She turned back to the computers so he couldn’t see how uncomfortable she was becoming with the conversation and with his presence in her hotel room. “Room service. Or, if you’re going out, you can grab me something.” She shot him a look. “I’ll stay put tonight. Promise.”

He nodded as though he’d expected nothing less. “Max will be here in the morning. You’ll have something for us by then?”

“That I can guarantee.” She didn’t know what, but she’d damn well have something. She was many things, but she was no quitter.

I
N FACT
,
BY THE TIME
the next morning rolled around and the three of them met in William’s room, she had a great deal more than something. She had Dominic Firenzetti.

“It wasn’t easy,” she said, “but I found him. After Kupfer caught him siphoning their grant money, he changed his name to Daniel Francona, but facial recognition software on a film clip confirmed the match. These days he’s an ‘entrepreneur — ’” she used her fingers to emphasize the quote marks “— with home bases in L.A. and Washington, D.C. It looks like he’s got interests in a bunch of scientific fields, including plastic surgery and gene therapy.” She shot Max a look. “Sound familiar?”

He nodded. “Sure does.” The Nine had targeted Raine’s sex enhancement drug because it improved the self-esteem of its users, threatening a sharp decline in cosmetic surgery procedures. Add that to Firenzetti/Francona’s apparent escape from prosecution and his rise to power, and they had good evidence for him being a member of The Nine or at least a beneficiary of their largesse.

She handed each man a brief printout containing stats and photographs. “He wasn’t on the plane that crashed in the Catskills, which suggests he’s probably a one-off supporter of The Nine rather than a member.”

William glanced at the printout, then back at her. “You don’t think he’s Odin?”

“No, I don’t, but that’s just my gut check, and I’m working on limited information, so take it for what it’s worth.”