Body of Evidence (Evidence Series) (13 page)

“But the whole world knew you were there; he’d never get away with that.”

“Mara, it’s North Korea. They can do whatever the hell they want.”

“But you were a diplomatic envoy. That would be an act of war.”

“Some would say arresting a former VP’s niece who’d been invited to the country was an act of war, but they weren’t too concerned about that.”

“They justified it. I was found on the edge of the DMZ—”

“And they could have found a way to justify arresting me. The State Department made it clear that by going in alone, there were no guarantees for my safety. The pilots had to stay on the plane to guard it. I was solo.”

Curt was
scared
? He’d risked his life and freedom to rescue her? Oh shit. She’d had it bad when he was Superman, but now he was mortal, and ten times sexier.

“Don’t look at me like that, Mara. I’m no hero. If there’s a hero in this, it’s you. You survived two months inside the DPRK, and your first words after sentencing weren’t in defense of yourself. You took the blame and defended JPAC. Your words will go a long way toward keeping JPAC operational.”

The garlicky shrimp hit her stomach with the density of a meteorite and twice as hot at his mention of JPAC, the organization she’d loved and the career that was now gone. “Congress tried to shut JPAC down after I was arrested, didn’t they?” And if word got out about the bomb, JPAC’s problems would be exponential.

He nodded. “They’re funded for the next fiscal year, but hanging on by a thread.”

She flopped back on the mattress and stared up at the ceiling. Every muscle in her body ached with exhaustion. Or maybe it was heartache. Or fear. “I’m a disaster.”

“There is something you can do.”

“Besides hide out on this boat forever? Do tell.”

“JPAC will survive if you show Raptor was to blame. Help me bring down Raptor, Mara.”

Join me on the Dark Side, Luke.
Damn lawyer. He wanted her to commit to working against her uncle. She propped herself on her elbows. “I thought it was just Roddy. I didn’t think it was the organization as a whole.” That was the truth.

“And now?”

Her tiredness was so much more than jet lag. It was firing-squad lag, attempted-murder lag, losing-all-sense-of-safety-and-belonging lag. “You’ve made your point.” She met his gaze. “Raptor might be trying to kill us.”

“
Might?
”

He wanted her to admit her uncle could be behind it all. She couldn’t. Not to herself, and certainly not to him. She didn’t flinch from his gaze. Thankfully, his eyes didn’t hold pity. In fact, what she saw could be desire, but the guarded prosecutor was hard to read.

She didn’t understand him. Or herself. Maybe all the forms of lag that plagued her had caused this overwhelming attraction to manifest. Or maybe it was the simple fact that lusting after Curt was an excellent distraction from the horrors of the day.

Of course, lust didn’t begin to describe what she felt. She
wanted
him. Now. Here. In sixteen different ways, some of which were illegal in more conservative states. She’d survived on little more than adrenaline and fear for months, and her body was craving life-affirming release. Curt was gorgeous, ripped, and proximate.

She was a starving woman presented with steak prepared just the way she liked it.

But he was the last man on earth she should get involved with. “Can you make your calls and get us off this damn island?” she asked.

R
APTOR’S SURVEILLANCE EQUIPMENT
probably outclassed that of the CIA, and Curt had carefully considered which of his friends and colleagues would be off Raptor’s grid. Lee Scott was the perfect choice. They’d met at a karate dojo when Curt was the elder teaching assistant and Lee a student, and had been friends for two decades. Curt trusted him completely. A private-sector computer and cell phone security expert, Lee worked outside political circles but knew the important players, he held government contracts that required him to pass high-level security clearance, and his expertise in phone systems ensured their conversation would remain private. Best of all, Lee’s stepbrother had his own corporate jet.

Lee’s perfection, however, did not extend to his attitude when called at one fifteen in the morning to field a request for a jet that didn’t even belong to him. He groused in a sleep-laden voice, “You want me to call JT and ask him to send his jet to Oahu to pick you up?”

“Yes, please.”

“Didn’t the last jet you borrowed blow up?”

Curt grimaced. “Um, yeah.” He paused and launched into his pitch. “You know I wouldn’t ask if—”

“Forget it. It’s yours.”

Lee’s quick capitulation startled him. “That easy?”

“If you’re asking, I know it’s important, and I know JT will agree.”

Curt was humbled for a moment by Lee’s simple faith in him, and emotion flooded him. Damn, apparently Mara’s finagling past his guard had left him vulnerable to other feelings. He cleared his throat. “Thanks, Lee. I owe you.”

In political circles, favors were currency and sometimes poison. He wasn’t a politician, but US attorneys were appointed by the president and had to go through Senate confirmation. The easiest way to sail through was to owe no one, and up until this moment, Curt had been debt-free.

“No, Curt. It’s impossible to owe a true friend anything more than a beer.”

He laughed. “Fine. I owe you a beer.”

“Well, maybe more than
one
. And not that crappy stuff you drink either.”

Curt smiled, his gaze on Mara as she stretched out on the bed. “I owe you a keg of the good stuff, because I have another favor to ask.” Her shirt rode up to reveal creamy smooth skin, flat belly, and perfect navel. Since when were belly buttons such a turn on?

He imagined tracing the indentation with his tongue and then trailing downward…

“You need advice on how to handle the archaeologist you picked up in DPRK. Now, I know a thing or two about archaeologists”—Lee’s voice softened at the reference to his fiancée—“and all I can say is good luck, buddy.”

He knew Lee was teasing, but still, the idea he’d somehow picked up on Curt’s carnal thoughts was alarming.
What the hell is happening to me?
“I can handle her.” He tried to put humor into his voice, to show amusement and prevent Lee from guessing he was losing his fucking mind.

Mara’s eyes warmed in challenge at his words. With a wicked smile, she touched her flat belly, casually pushing her top higher, revealing more tempting, smooth skin.

He narrowed his gaze. The trial. The trial was starting, and he needed to focus,
dammit
, on what was important. Convicting Stevens and staying alive. In that order. “I need you to buy a prepaid cell phone and deliver it to my co-counsel, Aurora Ames. Tonight. Now. And tell her to pull the battery from her cell.”

“You think her landline and cell are under surveillance?”

“She’s the first person I’d monitor if
I
were looking for me. I want you to deliver it to her house.”

“She’s going to freak when a total stranger shows up at her door at three in the morning.”

“She’s going solo in the courtroom in a few hours. She must be wondering why I haven’t called. If anything, she’ll be expecting you.” He gave Lee Aurora’s address. “Don’t call her and warn her you’re coming over. The last thing I want is Raptor getting your phone number and connecting you to me.”

Lee let out a low whistle. “Raptor? Shit, Curt. You’re talking black ops.”

Guilt stabbed at him for asking for help without warning of the risks. “If you don’t want to get involved, I understand.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m worried about
you
. If Raptor’s black ops missions were authorized, then you’re going after the highest politicians in office.”

“I’m already prosecuting a former VP.” On the bed next to him, Mara flinched. She tugged her shirt down and sat up, all playfulness gone.

“There’ll be enormous pressure to bury your allegations,” Lee said. “You could be the one to go down.”

“Raptor’s not acting on legitimate—if there is such a thing—black ops orders right now. Their greedy CEO is making his own rules.”

“Be careful, buddy.”

Curt glanced around the tiny cabin. This was a nice, safe, hidey-hole, but he shared it with his defendant’s enticing niece. This fishing boat might just be the most dangerous place on earth.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTEEN

M
ARA GOT UP
from the bunk and searched the cabinets in an attempt to distract herself while Curt arranged a flight and cast aspersions on her uncle. She found a stash of men’s clothing—fishing attire, which was perfect for Curt—and blankets for the bed. The bedding was a poor distraction, a reminder of the small bed and the enticing man who would share it with her.

Drawn to him like a mosquito to a bug zapper, she knew the coming hours would be a special kind of hell.

She slipped into the head to get ready for bed just as he said good-bye to whomever he’d called. Something about Curt brought out her provocative streak, the part of her that couldn’t resist a challenge. She wanted to push him to turn reckless. Wild. She wanted to shake his methodical, lawyerly, suspicious heart, and make him see her not as a suspect, not as a victim, not as a defendant’s niece, but as a woman.

She studied the gash on her forehead, a thin line of red visible under three butterfly bandages. She remembered Curt’s gentle treatment of her, the way he’d held her, fed her, teased her. And she remembered the way he’d looked at her, desire in his usually shuttered eyes.

In spite of her fuzzy brain, she knew her memories were accurate. She also knew the man who’d been charming, funny, warm, kind, and ridiculously sexy was the real Curt.

She took a deep breath and opened the door.

He lay shirtless, stretched out on the bed, asleep.

This infuriated her. Which frustrated her. Did she have to be such a freaking basket case?

She dropped her heavy duffle bag on the foot of the bed, causing it to shake. He obliged by opening a sleepy eye. “Oh good,” he said drowsily. “You’re done.”

He got up to take his turn in the head, but she didn’t budge, forcing him to brush against her in the tiny space, her bust to his abs.

Big mistake. In the confined space, her ample chest crushed against his skin with only her low-cut top between them. Need pounded through her with dizzying intensity. His eyes widened.

She cleared her throat. “I found more clothes for you.” She pointed to the items.

“Thanks. I’ll sleep in the JPAC one then.” He grabbed the T-shirt he’d removed and reached for the door.

She wanted to run her hands over his chest and shoulders—and vaguely remembered doing so in the water. No fair. The memory was fleeting—she deserved a do-over. She wanted to run her tongue along his pecs and then trace his beautifully defined abs with her lips.

Reckless. Absolutely, horrifyingly reckless.

“No, Mara,” he said into the heated silence, then escaped into the lavatory.

“Chicken,” she muttered, then climbed onto the narrow bed.

A few minutes later, Curt crawled in beside her. She turned over and faced the curved wall. She needed to stop thinking about him. Now.

His broad shoulders filled the space and heated her back. The silence stretched. She listened to the water lapping against the hull, enjoyed the gentle rocking motion, and hungered to make the boat rock more. “I can’t sleep,” she said.

“It’s only after eight here, and three in the afternoon in Korea, but it’s past two in the morning for me. I’m tired.”

She fidgeted and wriggled, trying to get comfortable, trying to settle her heated body, but nothing worked. Finally, Curt sighed heavily and slid an arm around her waist. He pulled her snug against him, spooning her back against his front.

“This is for comfort only.”

She’d been alone and scared for so long, the feel of his hard thighs behind hers and his strong arm across her belly was comforting. For the first time in months, she dropped her guard and eased into a deep sleep.