Cleopatra's Necklace (Devlin Security Force Book 3) (19 page)

Lucas cleared his throat as if temporizing. “Hunt has me on this other thing. A breakthrough on Yousef. If I can find your info fast, okay. Otherwise, it’ll have to keep.”

Keeping wouldn’t work. “Look. I need to retrieve Cleopatra’s necklace. The task force wants to nab Marco Zervas. Zervas is here trying to track us down because he thinks Cleo can find the necklace. We can set up a trap.”

“Damn, sounds good to me, Thomas. So does Venice. But Hunt’ll never go for it. Not now. What Yousef is up to takes precedence. She has us all working on it.”

A sharp right from the CTF’s original mandate. But Thomas’s gut said the necklaces were tied to Yousef. “Tell me about Yousef. Or do I need clearance?”

The light tap-tap-tap on a tablet came through the receiver. “I have authorization to share anything we have with you.”

As Lucas described the interview with the chemist, Thomas sat up straighter. “So he sold a computer chip to Yousef’s man?”

“Not just any old computer chip.” The tapping stopped. “The chip contains explosive compounds. When this sucker blows, anyone within six feet is blown to hell.”

THE LUXURY OF
the tiled shower—three nozzles, body wash and shampoo that smelled like lemons—relaxed Cleo at first. Until worry about Thomas’s wound prickled her nerves like thistles.

Once again someone she lo—cared about had been injured. For her. Or because of her. The prickling moved, to the vicinity of her heart. She rubbed her sternum with her soapy washcloth. All she could do for now was tend her wounded hero.

By the time she dried off with one of the hotel’s thick bath sheets, the steam and fragrant soap had eased her tension. After applying body lotion, she wrapped herself in the bathrobe and opened the door.

He sat higher in the bed, brow pleated with thought as he listened to his mobile. Spotting her, he patted the side of the bed.

No massage oil, but she snagged the small bottle of lotion before she joined him. As she joined him, he ended the call.

“The phone. Max Rivera about the hacking?”

He nodded. “Before I tell you, he said the admiral is home from the hospital and your mom’s there. He’ll be laid up for weeks but he’ll mend.”

She closed her eyes in a brief prayer of thanks. Now if she could only talk to her mom. “Thank you, Thomas. And thank Rivera when you talk to him next.”

“Right. He says our head of IT has held off the cyber invasion. She protected most of our data stored off-site by closing down those ports.”

“Great news.” She tugged on his robe’s sash. “Take that off and roll over. You’re due for that back rub.”

“Babe, you can rub whatever parts you want.” Holding his injured arm gingerly against his body, he peeled off the robe with her help.

She poured the lemon-scented lotion into one hand and warmed it between her palms. Such a beautiful man. He was all firm muscle over strong bones, a man of honor made tough in battle and in life. His thoughtful expression belied his flirtatious words. “Does Rivera have any idea who’s responsible?”

He turned onto his stomach. “Max agrees with me it’s probably Zervas’s man, Gerry Hawkins. Well known in underground cyber circles but never prosecuted or jailed. He seems to have created software specifically geared to take over a large computer system. He accessed ours with a DSF secure log-in device, a card an employee swipes for access to company computers. Then whoever did it uploaded the software using a USB drive.”

“An inside job. One of your own people. That bites.”

“With vampire fangs,” he said on a groan. “DSF vets personnel thoroughly—background checks, financial checks, psychological, the works. Necessary because of the work we do. But we missed something or someone needs money in a bad way.”

“Let it go for now and let me work out the outer soreness.”  She positioned herself on her knees and started with the taut muscles of his neck and shoulders with broad, gentle strokes. Often after long hours hunched over a workbench, René had asked her to massage him this way. Better not to mention that.

A low groan. “Damn, that feels good. I didn’t know how much I needed this.”

Rarely had the massages for René been sexual, only therapeutic. The circular motions of her lotion-slick hands over the firm flesh and tensile strength of Thomas’s back both soothed and aroused her. She paused to drink water from the bottle beside the bed.

After a moment, she dug into his thick dorsals with the heels of her hands. “I don’t know much about computers, obviously.” Prime example, posting on Facebook her photo wearing the Cleopatra necklace. “So thank you for explaining in terms I understand. Can DSF do business as usual?”

“Not completely. Most of our records are safe, but Rivera had to shut down credit and explain to all our clients. No new cases until this is solved. Then we’ll notify everyone and put out a press release.”

“I’m sorry. Embarrassing, big time.”

“Zervas knew how to hit me where it hurt. Now more than ever I want his ass.” The sharp vehemence tightened the muscles beneath her hands.

“You’ll get him. I wish I had more of a clue to help find the necklaces.” She moved farther down, straddling his hips for better access to his tight lower back. “What about Del Rio? Did he find the London address?”

“He’s working on it. He found the company name but no information yet. Merlin Entertainment mean anything to you?”

“
Niente.
”

“
Nothing.
Even I know that much Italian. Del Rio had to hang up while he went ahead with his assignment. He’ll call back when he has something more.”

“Kind of late at night for him to be working,” she observed.

“A California scientist under government contract was caught dealing with a man associated with Ahmed Yousef. He confessed to selling the highly classified computer chip.”

“Military secrets?”

“Military applications for damn sure. This chip contains compounds that when triggered create an explosion. And nothing as small as you might think. Enough to kill anyone nearby.”

Horrific images flashed in her mind. “I don’t know much about Yousef except he’s Iranian.” She was breathing hard as she kneaded his back with her knuckles.

Small grunts of satisfaction rose from deep inside his chest. “A dissident, a fanatic on keeping Western influence out of the Middle East. He opposes his government’s policies because reformers have eased toward rapprochement with the West. Trade agreements and such. The mullahs tolerate him because he also attacks their adversaries.”

Thomas was relaxing, judging from the slurred sound of his voice. Pleased, she smoothed her palms down the muscles to ease out of the deep massage. In moments he should fall asleep. “An exploding chip like that could be used for an assassination.”

“Mmm, no wonder finding it’s a priority. Too bad it distracts from finding Zervas.”

She conjured the image of a computer chip. Tiny, not just millimeters but smaller. Delicate but easy to hide. She went still. Her pulse pinged with excitement.

“What if the two are connected?” she said. “What if Yousef paid Zervas to steal the Cleopatra necklace? Zervas paid René to make the copy. What if he hid the exploding chip inside one of the necklaces?”

Thomas turned over so fast he flipped her onto her back beside him. He kissed her, a hard, smacking smooch that stole what breath she had left. “Babe, you’re a genius!”

He rolled away from her. He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at his phone, not calling. Once he took time to think about the idea, doubts? “There has to be a connection.” Seconds later, he was explaining her theory to Del Rio.

Cleo leaned against the headboard while she listened. On speaker, Del Rio’s initial reactions were only grunts and hums. Her cheeks burned. Thomas liked her idea, but exhaustion and pain had him half zonked. Lucas Del Rio and this official Interpol bunch would think her idea dumb.

“A damned handy solution.” Del Rio didn’t sound convinced. “But why such an expensive and elaborate method? Stealing Cleopatra’s necklace and paying Chung three million for the exploding chip?”

Cleo listened intently as they kicked around ideas. Suggestions, challenges, and questions bounced back and forth as the men focused on the problem and examining all the possibilities.

“Suicide bombers are a hell of a lot cheaper,” Del Rio said.

“Cheaper, yes, but ordinary,” Thomas replied. “Maybe Yousef’s target is a government official, one so secure a suicide bomber couldn’t get close.”

Cleo leaned closer to Thomas’s phone. “And high-profile, someone who warrants a high-profile assassination, something public.”

He squeezed her hand. “And witnessed by millions. Finding the chip means finding the stolen necklace. Zervas had a limited role in the scheme, only paid to get the chip implanted in the necklace. That’s probably more millions. I figure the copy was our old friend’s idea so he could keep the real necklace for himself. Still, he might know what assassination was planned. He followed Cleo and me to Venice. He’ll follow us again. We have to work together.”

Del Rio blew out a long whistle. “You may be on to something, Captain.”

Cleo held her breath as Thomas stared at the ceiling. Finally, he said, “Yousef can’t act on his plan without the chip. Let me talk to Agent Hunt.”

* * *

An hour later in the darkened room, Cleo snuggled up to Thomas’s uninjured side. He slept on his back, snoring lightly, his chest rising and falling in an even rhythm.

She smiled, warmed by his heat in more ways than one. After he’d ended the phone conversation, he’d drawn her into his arms and they’d made love, as he’d promised earlier.

“Don’t worry about the arm,” he’d said. “My blood will be pumping elsewhere.”

Now she lay replete and sleepy beside him. And proud.

To the task-force boss, a hard-as-nails FBI agent, he had defended her deduction. Apparently Jessica Hunt couldn’t say no to Thomas Devlin any more than she could. Tomorrow the two of them were headed to Paris for a strategy session with the Centaur Task Force. She’d be glad to leave Venice and Marco Zervas behind. Thomas had hinted Zervas would follow but she’d be safer in Paris, with more protection from the CTF.

Was he easing away from her already? He wasn’t tired of sex with her. He seemed to like her company. When they weren’t focused on the hunt for the necklace or evading Marco Zervas, they talked. They teased and laughed and shared. He told her more about his time in the army and she shared stories of her European travels. Whatever they did, whatever they discussed, desire arced between them in a constant flow.

Tonight he could have died defending her. When she’d heard him grappling with the attacker, an oily cauldron of fear for him had churned her stomach. At that moment she’d accepted she was in love with him.

Desperately, deeply, irrevocably. Dangerously.

She sank into her pillow as feverish thoughts swirled in her tired brain. For the past several years, she’d closed her feelings for him in the dark shadows of her heart, but being with him again opened the door and out they burst in multicolor pyrotechnics. Joy and fear and tenderness and pain, mixed with her need to keep her hard-won independence.

She loved him and she didn’t want to love him, didn’t want to
need
him.

Earlier in the water taxi, he’d allowed her to realize the danger involved in visiting Mimi. Not heavy handed. Reasonable. Maybe he wasn’t the arrogant alpha male wanting total control. Maybe...

Oh, great, less than twenty-four hours since her resolve to keep it simply sex and here she was totally denying reality, picturing a canvas daubed with bright yellows and blues. Instead the canvas was solid black. No colors. No light. No future. Her stomach hollowed, eddying again with the toxic stew.

She needed a distraction. Like solving René’s puzzle.

“Melon...”Pomp”
or maybe
“Pope.”
So
“Pope... Ladder.”

No better. Suddenly her eyelids felt weighted with bricks. She yawned. Somewhere she’d read that if you went to bed with a problem to solve, your brain would work on it while you slept.

Note to brain: You have your orders.

***

Paris

With Cleo at his side late the next afternoon, Thomas entered the CTF headquarters’ outer office. They brought with them the smell of the light rain that had begun as the limousine delivered them from Charles de Gaulle Airport.

The slice in Thomas’s arm barely stung and hadn’t swollen, so this morning he’d persuaded Cleo he didn’t need to see a doctor. For now, she agreed. They intended to arrive by noon but mechanical problems with their Al Italia flight and a French truckers’ strike ruined that plan. He hoped to hell the delays hadn’t given Zervas time to catch up to them.

He slid Cleo’s soft carry-on off his shoulder and handed it to her. He gave their names to the pretty young receptionist who sat at a sleek modern desk before an opaque glass wall.

“
Oui, monsieur, mademoiselle
, you are expected,” she said. “Have a seat. I shall announce you.” She tapped a button on her ear module and did just that.

“I admit we need the task force’s help,” Cleo whispered as they wandered toward the chairs, “but letting them take over is out of the question.”

She set her bag on a chair. Biting her lower lip, she brushed the raindrops from the jacket she wore over a hot-pink pullover and dark slacks, her own clothing for a change. The reddish tone of the overhead lighting caught the fire in her auburn hair. And the determination in her eyes.

He dumped his backpack beside her bag on the chair. “On that we agree. We have different priorities.” He captured her hand and rubbed the soft skin of her wrist with his thumb. “My highest priority is keeping you safe.”

Her gaze softened. “That and retrieving the necklace. I’ll hold you to your promise not to shut me out or hide me away.”

Before he could reassure her, Lucas Del Rio burst through the inner door, his broad face granite-hard in an exasperated expression. When his gaze landed on Cleo, he stopped like a street mime colliding with an invisible wall. His eyes rounded and his face reddened.

Thomas laughed, looped his arm around her shoulders. “Yes, Lucas, it’s uncanny how similar they are. This is Cleo, not Mimi. Trust me on that.”