Betrayed (5 page)

The dream had started with the terror of the hostage scene. But the terror had dissolved into sexual need, then… She didn't want to admit that her unconscious mind had brought her to sexual climax, but there was no way to avoid the reality.

She lay in bed, struggling to bring her emotions and her breathing under control.

Moments ago she had imagined making love with Shane Gallagher. Well, not sexual intercourse. She supposed she hadn't dared go that far—even in her dreams. But he had made her come.

Made her come. That's what it was called. Something nice girls didn't do. But she hadn't been able to control her dream.

She laughed out loud, the sound startling in the darkened bedroom. She'd been asleep. That was her excuse.

A long-ago scene flashed into her mind. Something she didn't like to think about. The time Momma had come into her bedroom and caught her touching herself. She'd slapped her and told her that was something forbidden. And Elena had made sure she'd never been caught doing it again. Of course, “caught” was the operative word. It was something she didn't want to give up, and she'd just been more careful about it. That was all.

She dragged in a breath and let it out.

Back then she'd been a scared little girl, wanting to please her parents. When she'd grown up, she'd read a lot about sex. It was a natural function and perhaps a joy for married couples. But in the world where she came from, it was forbidden to anyone else.

Well, at least that was true of women. She was fairly sure that a lot of men felt entitled to disobey that rule. They could get away with it because their wives were dependent on them, for themselves and for their children, if they had any. But she would never be the kind of woman with no resources of her own. She'd dreamed of being an artist, but she'd known that was an uncertain career. She'd made sure she had a marketable skill, working with computers. That had gotten her a good job. She was perfectly capable of supporting herself. And maybe someday she'd find the right man. Someone who would love her and respect her.

Her heart squeezed. Was the right man out there? She didn't know, but for the moment, her best choice was to keep on with the life she had made for herself.

She sat up in bed, pulled her knees up and clasped her arms around her legs, rocking back and forth. Her life had been going along the way she'd planned it until a new chief of security had showed up at S&D. Shane Gallagher. She was afraid of him, but at the same time she was attracted to him, and she thought the attraction was mutual. But there were times when it felt like he had something against her, something she didn't understand, because she had no idea what she'd done to set him against her. That part was like the soldiers back home. You never knew what they'd be ordered to do—and why.

She didn't understand his moods, and right now she was praying that she wasn't going to run into him tomorrow. Not after her unconscious mind had led her to an admission she never would have made if she'd been awake. She wanted him, and she'd dreamed of him kissing her and touching her with the intimacy of a lover.

Of course, the episode had made another decision for her, as well. Lincoln Kinkead had suggested she might want to talk to a counselor. That was out of the question now, because the thing at the top of her mind would be her fantasy sex with Shane Gallagher. And she certainly wasn't going to talk to anyone about
that.

After only a few hours of sleep, Shane heaved himself out of bed and winced. He must be out of shape if a jaunt to the eighth floor of an office building made his muscles sore.

He laughed. Yeah, sure. He'd been confident of his ability to make the climb down from the roof, but now he was paying the price because he'd used muscles that didn't usually get a workout.

He did some stretching exercises, then headed to the home office that doubled as his workout room. After a punishing forty-five minutes on the elliptical trainer, he showered and headed for Rockfort Security.

Max was already in the office. Jack was probably at home, snuggled in bed with his wife. Shane wasn't going to complain about that. The guy was entitled after the rough year he'd had before stumbling naked into Morgan Rains' front yard. Quite a way to meet. But then Jack had never been the conventional type.

Part of him envied his friend for being happy and settled down. The other part knew that Jack had found a rare woman—a woman worth trusting and loving. Was that in the right order? Did you have to trust someone before you could love her? Probably it was the wiser course. He'd fallen in love with Glenda without knowing enough about her—and paid the price for his impulsiveness later.

He shook his head, then realized that his other partner, Max Lyon, was watching him.

“What?” he asked.

“You look like you're doing some deep thinking.”

“Yeah, about the case,” Shane lied. “I was hoping you or Jack could do some background checking for me while I'm at S&D.”

“Sure, what do you need?”

“There are two guys in the IT department, Jed Lansing and Roy Newman, that I'm wondering about. I don't want to use the work computers to poke into their backgrounds, because if I did, they might find out about it.”

“You mean—they might check up on you?”

“Right.”

“What do you want to know about them?”

“Dig below the surface of the usual information and see if either of them has been involved in anything questionable.”

“Any particular reason you're interested in them?”

“Both of them act uncomfortable around me. I'd like to know if there's a reason for it.”

“Will do.”

Shane thanked his partner, then headed for S&D. He had planned to go straight to his office, but as he walked down the hall, people kept stopping him to congratulate him on the takedown of the evening before and to ask questions. By the time he got to his desk, it was after ten. But the questions gave him an idea. He'd been wondering how he could bump into Elena today. It would certainly be natural for him to go over to IT to find out how she was doing after yesterday's harrowing events.

The plan lightened his mood, which he found annoying. His relationship with her should be strictly business, yet he was pleased at the prospect of seeing her again.

He spent an hour and a half at his desk doing routine security work, looking at the logs of calls from hardwired company phones as well as running through cell phone calls made inside the building. He was sure most employees didn't know that the company could track their private communications. In fact, the system was something like what the National Security Agency had been using to monitor phone calls and emails around the United States.

He didn't have ready access to the conversations themselves, but he could see who was calling whom. So far he hadn't picked up any suspicious patterns, but that could simply mean the person out to steal company secrets was being cautious and not communicating with anyone questionable while he or she was at work.

Around eleven thirty, Shane got out of the computer program and sat for a moment, picturing the layout of IT.

There was a small reception area, then cubicles along two short halls. Elena's desk was near the end of the hall on the right.

Shane took the elevator down to IT and stepped into the department, pausing in the reception area as he pretended to get his bearings. He saw that several people noted his presence, including Roy Newman, one of the men he'd asked Max to check on.

When Shane looked in the guy's direction, Newman quickly lowered his head back to his work, which might be significant or not.

Shane continued down the right-hand hall, walking slowly on feet that were almost silent. Several of the nearby cubicles were empty, but Elena was at her desk, poring over a spreadsheet on her screen. Absorbed in her work, she wasn't aware that anyone was standing behind her, which gave him a few moments to take her in.

His gaze skimmed over the glossy black of her wavy hair and the feminine tilt of her shoulders. He could see her delicate features reflected in her computer screen.

When she realized she wasn't alone, she stiffened and looked up quickly, turning to see who was there. As she registered who it was, a mixture of expressions flickered across her features. She looked glad to see him, but at the same time embarrassed and wary.

“Mr. Gallagher,” she said.

“After last night, I think you know me well enough to call me Shane.”

After
last
night.

She flushed, and he wondered what about the hostage takedown was making her blush. “Shane,” she murmured, letting the sound of his name hang between them.

He had the feeling she'd wanted to ask why he was there, but then thought better of the question and waited for him to explain.

“I wanted to find out how you were doing—after that ordeal with Duckworth yesterday.”

“I'm fine.”

“You answered pretty quickly.”

She raised one shoulder. “Okay, it was an automatic response. But it is true.”

“I'd like to get your impressions of what happened.”

“I'm kind of busy.”

He waited a beat before saying, “I was thinking we could get some lunch. You were planning to eat lunch, weren't you?”

“I guess.”

“Let's get out of the building. There's a sandwich shop I found a few blocks from here that's very good.”

She looked torn, and he felt his stomach clench while he waited for her to make a decision. When she finally agreed, the tension eased out of him.

“Give me a couple of minutes to freshen up.”

“I'll meet you in the main lobby.”

***

Elena hurried to the ladies' room, used the facilities, and went to the sink where she inspected her face in the mirror while she washed her hands.

The woman who stared back seemed flushed and nervous, and she was sure Shane Gallagher had picked up on that when he'd come to her cubicle. Did he think she was hiding something that had to do with work? She hated to think so, but on the other hand, she'd hate him knowing the real reason why she was on edge. She'd had a very sexual dream last night, a dream where he was the star attraction. Just that thought brought more color to her cheeks, and she made a sound low in her throat.

“Stop it,” she muttered to herself. “Think about something else.”

She dug her comb out of her purse and swiped it through her hair, then got out lipstick and stroked on a little. Standing back to survey the effect, she hoped it didn't look like she'd gotten fixed up for him. But then what was wrong with that? An attractive man had asked her to lunch, and there was no reason not to make herself look good for him. Any American girl would do that.

Like her. Making herself into an American had been one of her goals. On the surface, she thought she had succeeded, but she knew her values were old-fashioned by American standards.

Ordering herself not to keep going on about her reactions, she left the ladies' room and took the elevator to the first floor, where Shane was standing in the lobby, gazing out the front window.

He turned when he heard her coming up behind him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she answered, hearing the breathy quality of her voice. She ordered herself to act normal, whatever that meant.

“The deli's not fancy.”

“Do I look to you like a woman who needs fancy?” she heard herself ask.

That stopped him for a moment, and she felt she might have scored a point when a hint of a smile touched his lips. “I guess not.”

“Good.” But was she keeping score—and of what?

When they stepped out of the building and into the parking lot, she noted that he had a good space, one of the numbered ones close to the building.

His car was large. An SUV, she guessed you'd call it. Still, when they climbed into the front seat and closed the doors, she felt like the two of them were very close together. Closer than she would have chosen. She could smell the subtle tang of the aftershave he'd used, and she could see the muscles work in his arm as he reached to start the car and put it in gear. She grabbed on to the attraction she felt for him and deliberately pushed it into a corner of her mind.

Still, when he twisted to look behind the car as he backed out of the parking space, she felt his shoulder brush hers and jumped back.

“Sorry,” he said.

“That's okay. I'm just…”

“What?”

She dragged in a breath and let it out. “I was brought up not to be alone with a man. It's hard to break old habits.”

When he tipped his head to the side, she heard herself explaining. “I'm from San Marcos.” So what was she doing now, trying to sabotage her all-American image?

“Right. I forgot,” he said, making her think that he knew very well where she was from.

“How long have you been here?” he asked.

“Twenty years. But behavior gets drummed into you by your parents. And you know…the church.”

“Yeah.”

“So you know what I mean?”

“Uh-huh.”

As long as they were having this conversation, she decided to ask, “What did your parents drum into you?”

“Politeness, for one thing.” He paused. “And honesty.”

She nodded. “I got that, too.”

“And they made sure I valued work.”

“Were you always in security?”

“After college, when I couldn't get a job, I joined the army and went into their investigative service.”

“Oh.”

“It was good training.”

He pulled up in the parking lot of an entertainment complex.

“It's in here.”

They didn't go directly inside. Instead, she followed him around the side of the sprawling building to a restaurant that looked out over a small lake. Tables shaded by umbrellas were scattered around a wide concrete patio. Many were occupied, but there were still some vacant. When they went inside, she could see more tables with fewer people.

“It's a nicer view if you eat on the patio,” he commented. “And the sunshine's good.”

“Yes,” she answered as she scanned the menu, which was printed on a large board above the cooking area. There were a lot of items, enough to make a decision difficult.

“My standard is corned beef on rye with coleslaw and Russian dressing. What's your choice?”

She focused on the board again and found one that met her own standards. “Tuna salad.”

“And we could split some potato salad.”

“Okay.”

“What do you want to drink?”

“Iced tea.”

It was strange to suddenly be choosing food and preparing to have a meal with the man she'd had an intimate encounter with last night—even if it had been a fantasy that he didn't even know about. The juxtaposition made her feel as though she had stepped from the real world into an alternate reality.

“Why don't you go get us a table,” he said. “I'll order and bring out the food.”

When she fumbled for her wallet, he waved his hand. “I'll get it.”

“But…”

“You might have saved my life last night,” he said. “The least I can do is buy you lunch.”

She answered with a small nod.

“Get a nice table,” he said, changing the subject.

Glad to get away from him for the moment, she stepped outside, feeling like she'd escaped from…what exactly?

Blinking in the sunlight as she waited for her eyes to adjust again, she looked around at the tables and chose one close to the lake. She'd brought a sweater, thinking they might be eating inside where the air-conditioning was chilly. Because she didn't need it out here, she draped it over one of the chair backs. Looking up again, she saw a mother duck in the water with eight fuzzy yellow babies trailing behind her. Glad for something to focus on besides the man buying her lunch, she went over to the waterside and bent over, watching the little family and wishing she had something to feed them.

A hand on her shoulder made her jump. Looking around, she saw that Shane had come out with the food. He could have told her that he was back. Instead, he'd touched her.

“I couldn't resist watching the ducks. But I saved our table.”

“Good.”

She caught something in his voice, something she couldn't quite figure out.

He had put a plastic tray on the table with the sandwiches, potato salad, and drinks.

As they sat across from each other, she emptied a packet of sugar into her tea and stirred it with the straw he'd brought. Then she unwrapped her sandwich and took a bite. “This is good.”

He kept his gaze on her. “How do you rate tuna sandwiches?”

She laughed. “This one doesn't have too much mayonnaise. The tuna is good quality, and it's seasoned with pickle relish—which I like.”

“An interesting analysis. I'll keep it in mind.”

“What do you look for in a tuna sandwich?”

He shifted in his seat. “I guess I think of tuna salad as lady food.”

“Oh.”

“I forgot to ask what kind of bread you like. Is the whole wheat okay?”

“It's fine.”

They bit into their sandwiches and chewed, and there was a moment of silence during which she wondered if they were both trying to think of something to say that didn't involve the food.