The Makeover Mission (18 page)

"A street over, a man shot several rounds from his pistol
into the air to celebrate the birth of his first-born." He spoke with
calm, deliberate words, willing the dazed expression to leave her face, the
mute appeal in her eyes to disappear.

"Was it a boy or a girl?"

He shouldn't have been surprised. He was beginning to understand
that to her, the unknown man would be an individual with a name, a face, an
importance simply because he was alive. To him, the man was nothing until his
actions impacted the mission. Another difference to keep in mind.

"I don't know if it was a boy or a girl. I'll find out."

She gave a smile as an answer, a small tremulous smile that tore
through him like a torch through ice cream. He decided he'd make sure he
discovered from the proud but foolish papa not only the sex of his child but
its name, birth weight and whatever else, anything to coax another smile from
her.

"Major?" A voice spoke near his elbow. "The drink
you asked for. And the blanket."

He stood and accepted both, aware Jane was still not true to form
when she said nothing as he pressed a cold can into her hands and unfurled the
blanket loosely around her shoulders.

"Drink this. Slowly but steadily." He crouched beside
her again, aware he'd have to leave any second yet loath to do so. Especially
as her gaze followed his every move, as if drawing what strength she still
possessed from him.

He watched her grimace as she tasted the sugar-laced liquid, then
square her shoulders and swallow again. Finally she was following orders.

The mike at his shoulder squawked and he knew he'd run out of
time. "Stay here. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Where—"

"Three of my team will be stationed around you. You need
anything, ask one of them."

She continued to look at him, her gaze less shocky than moments
ago, replaced by a remoteness he didn't care for. Without being aware of it he
took her hands between his, willing some warmth into them, not caring who
noticed his actions.

"Everything will be all right. There's just a few details to
clear up."

He wondered who he was reassuring as he rose to his feet,
releasing her hands in the same motion. He nodded to Sanchez, who stationed
himself behind her, glanced at Elderman to her left and Williams flanking her
right. She was as covered as she could be in case the incident had been only a
ruse. A ploy to relax their guard long enough to take advantage of the
confusion, to make their move.

"I'll be back."

He meant it as a promise and left.

Jane didn't know how long she rubbed her fingers back and forth
along the icy sides of the soft drink she gripped like a buoy, feeling the
water bead beneath her touch. Sounds spilled over her, the rush of voices no
longer screaming but still holding fear beneath their clamor. If she raised her
head she would see the profiles of two of McConneghy's team.

A bubble of hysteria threatened to escape but she wouldn't let it.
She knew if she did, she'd never be able to get beyond the fear. Better to
focus on the incongruity of her, plain Jane from Sioux Falls, huddled beneath a
scratchy blanket in a parking lot in a country she'd only vaguely heard about
less than a month ago, being guarded by armed men. She'd had nightmares that
made more sense.

"Mademoiselle Rostov?" A woman's voice called to her,
softly. Three men immediately turned, startling Jane with the speed and
precision of their movement. From statue-still to red alert, she thought, aware
her hand had crumpled the thin aluminum can before she could stop herself.

"Mademoiselle Rostov." The voice came again as Jane
shifted her gaze from firearms held ready to an older woman standing nervously
a few feet away. The woman was not dressed in the pressed suits of a delegation
member, but the full skirt and work-worn blouse Jane had noticed many of the
general population wore. "I have brought you something,
mademoiselle."

Was she a threat? A terrorist in disguise? Is this how Lucius
viewed all strangers?

The woman swallowed deeply and advanced forward a step, her hands
clutched around a small, brightly colored bag extended before her.

Afraid one of her silent, efficient guards would shoot first, ask
questions later, Jane stood, letting the blanket slip from her shoulders.

"Wait." She didn't know if it was Elderman or Sanchez
she spoke to and right then didn't really care. She addressed her next words to
the woman. "You must not come closer. Please."

"It is for good luck." The woman extended the bag she
carried, letting it dangle between callused fingers. "The herbs will bring
long life and felicity."

Long life or another bomb?

The woman moved closer and Jane reacted. It wasn't fear for
herself but fear for the men around her. Would they die protecting her? Or have
to live with the decision to take one life instead of risking another?

She couldn't let them do it. If the woman meant to kill her, so be
it. But only her. She could live with that more than with the thought of others
suffering because of her.

Brushing past her nearest guard before he could react, Jane
stepped toward the woman, but before she could reach her, a hand jerked her to
a rough stop.

"Are you crazy?" It was Lucius. "Williams, check
the bag. I'll deal with you and Elderman later."

"It's not their fault." The words slipped out even as
McConneghy was hustling her away from where the woman still stood, her
expression as dazed as Jane felt.

She wondered if her words registered with McConneghy as he pushed
her into the front seat of a compact car.

"Of all the pea-brained, idiotic—"

He stormed to the driver's side, slid behind the wheel and began
muttering through a clenched jaw. And he was talking about her.

"I beg your pardon."

"Don't get prissy on me. Not now, lady."

She'd never been prissy in her entire life. "I am not
prissy."

"You're prissy with a capital P." He shifted gears and
the car lunged forward, taking the city streets with hair-trigger precision.
"Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"I didn't do anything—"

"You were walking up to a total stranger. She could have had
anything in that bag."

"I know that."

He gave her a hard-eyed glance before his gaze shot back to the
road.

"But I wasn't about to let anyone else get hurt because of
me."

"You can't possibly be that stupid."

Jane told herself she wouldn't cry. Not in a million years. Just
because it had been a rough day, a very rough day so far, and now she had to
endure insult added to injury, did not mean she would cry. Sniffing a little
was okay. But definitely no tears.

"Do you think that you, who have the self-preservation sense
of a gnat, are better equipped to deal with a killer than my trained team
members?"

Okay, maybe one or two tears. But she wiped them away quickly.

"I told you to stay put. That didn't mean expose yourself to
the first stranger that approached."

He made her sound like a stripper. Or an idiot. Or a combination
of the two.

"I bet you gave Williams one of those big-eyed looks of
yours. Twisted him around your pinkie before he knew what hit him."

Who was he talking about? She'd barely dated and here he was
making her sound like Mata Hari in disguise.

"Or did you use that voice on him? The one that makes you
feel like a heel for not jumping high enough, fast enough."

That was it. She'd had all the guff she could take in one day. She
only wished her throat wasn't choking up on her with a lump the size of the
Grand Canyon. "Stop it. Just stop it. I didn't do anything wrong and I'm
not any of those things you're calling me. So just stop it."

He shot a glance at her, no less hard than the one before, but
warier this time. As if he'd heard something in her voice she'd hoped she'd
kept hidden.

They drove in silence for a space, the city giving way to small
patches of farms with chickens scrounging in the yards and sparse, rocky earth
plowed in crooked furrows. Jane kept her face turned toward the scenery, her
hands cupped into a useless ball in her lap. When McConneghy spoke at last,
several miles had slipped past and his voice sounded less harsh and more husky.
"I can't protect you if you don't help."

"You wouldn't have to protect me if I wasn't here in the
first place." The words welled up and erupted before she could control
them. But they felt better than the dazed helplessness of earlier.

"The point is you
are
here." She thought she
heard him sigh before he shifted the car down to take a series of tight
corners. "I'm dealing with reality. The reality here is you put yourself
and my men in jeopardy by not staying where I told you to stay."

He must have taken guilt lessons from a Grand Master. Either that
or he understood her well enough to know she would argue with him until the day
after forever if it impacted her alone. But the fact she might have harmed
others, even unintentionally, she couldn't accept.

"I didn't do it to hurt anyone. I was trying to protect
people. You of all people should understand that." When he said nothing
she added, "But you said everything was okay. That it wasn't anything to
do with Elena."

"I said what you needed to hear. It could have been a feint
to divide and confuse my team."

"Oh."

This then was his world. One where he couldn't accept a peasant
woman's gift at face value, couldn't trust anything, or anyone. Where he must
always be on guard.

"It was a girl."

"Excuse me?"

"I said it was a girl." He glanced at her, his
expression unreadable. "The man who had a child. It was a little girl,
eight pounds, five ounces. He's naming it Elena in your honor. I suggested Jane
as a middle name."

Now the tears refused to be held back. She turned her head, hoping
he wouldn't see, or if he did he would blame the wind rushing through the open
windows. How dare he rant and rave one minute and then be kind, take the time
and trouble to find out about the man and his new child for her sake?

"What now? I thought you would be pleased."

Didn't anything escape the man's attention?

"I am pleased." She swallowed the rest of her pesky
emotions and gave what she hoped was a final sniff. It was then that the
scenery around her registered. "Just exactly where are we going?"

He cast her another of his enigmatic looks. One he must have
perfected in the cradle, before shrugging. "You'll see in a few
minutes."

Did the man ever give a straight answer? She glanced around the
interior of the sports car. "Why aren't we in the limo?"

"It attracts too much attention."

And a fire-engine red, low-slung sports car whizzing through the
countryside didn't? But before she could point out the error in his thinking
the vehicle crested the hill and the brilliant blue of a tiny, moon-shaped lake
lay spread before her.

"Oh." It was so inadequate a word, but anything else
would have been, too. The lush green of the hill sloped steeply down to a
ribbon of sand, white against its darkness. Soft, lapping waves washed against
its flat line, a brilliant landscape of contrasting blues, sky and water.

It took only minutes before McConneghy steered the car down a
zigzag road and pulled it alongside a flat verge of vinelike bushes leading
toward the lake.

He cut the engine, the sound of birds filling in the void.

"What are we doing?"

"I thought you'd like a break."

He was out of the car and reaching into the back seat before she
could ask another question.

"Come on." He opened her car door, extending one hand,
the other clenched around a woven basket.

"I don't understand." Understatement. Yet she took his
hand, feeling its solidness beneath her own. "Where are we going?"

"We're here." He actually smiled, his teeth looking
white against the tan of his face, his eyes appearing more blue than gray with
the lake as a backdrop. "I thought you needed to get away."

He was going too fast for her, as usual. Not letting her catch her
breath before he shifted her world end to end. How could she keep any sense of
equilibrium when he kept muddling everything?

Sand slipped through her open-toed shoes, feeling warm and soft as
he guided her across the empty beach, his hand tucked securely around hers as
if she'd escape if he released it. They might have been the only two people in
the universe for all she could see when they finally stopped. On the other hand
this could be like the pool. Another beautiful spot hiding danger around every
corner.

She watched as he unfurled a large square of cloth from the basket
before pulling her down onto its surface. She tucked her knees beneath her,
ignoring the sting of her scratches.