Countermeasure (39 page)

“Yes, George is tenacious and will be able to sniff Niklas out. Great idea, by the way!”

Cassandra glanced over to him when she heard his praise and saw the sincerity in his eyes. Her gaze strayed to follow the length of him. She admired the sight of him mussed up from sleep and just wearing a pair of unbuttoned jeans, sitting in front of his laptop.
Damn, now that’s a geek.

She returned her attention to the task at hand, composing the email to Nathan. “Well, there is no guarantee that he’ll agree to it. He’s not very happy with me right now. Hopefully he’ll understand how important this is.”

Cassandra kept her eyes glued to the screen and mulled over how best to approach Nathan. She decided on a straightforward email with no mention of the fiasco of their last phone conversation. Cassandra sent him a brief request for any information, past or present, he could pull on Kenyon and Niklas. She didn’t go into any details around Kenyon’s death, but she did ask him to check if he had any known female associates.

She attached Niklas’s picture and the few details she could recall about him—the European accent, most likely Austrian or German, and that he was an experienced gunman. She concluded the email, stressing the urgency to have any information, even the smallest nugget, in her hands within the next few hours.

Cassandra then held her breath and hit the send key. Her heart was heavy with the knowledge that Nathan had every right to ignore her message. She held on to the hope that their longstanding friendship would prevail.

Trevor could tell something was bugging Cassandra. A frown creased her forehead and she nibbled on her lower lip. Her hesitation at emailing Nathan spurred his curiosity. He remembered Nathan’s possessiveness during their first encounter back at the NSA and the phone call Trevor had answered the night he and Cassandra had made love for the first time. It was his guess that Nathan was in love with Cassandra. Her words to Nathan had been curt and they hadn’t revealed much regarding how she felt about him, but it didn’t appear that there was anything more there than friendship.

His curiosity finally got the best of him. “So. What’s with you and Bruce Banner?”

“Who?” Distracted with the documents on her screen, Cassandra didn’t quite get it right away. Then it dawned on her—the name he had called Nathan back in Maryland.

She laughed. “You better watch out when he finds out you call him that.” Trevor gave her an amused look, and she laughed again.

“Seriously, though,” he said; “why are you so worried about bringing him in? He could definitely be an asset.”

Cassandra debated over what to tell Trevor about Nathan. Nathan had been the one mistake in her life that she would happily take back if she could rewind time. For a second, she considered hedging, but she didn’t want him to be left with any doubt about her feelings. If they were to continue building upon the foundation they had already established, she had to follow Trevor’s example—disclose everything.

Looking Trevor directly in the eye, she did just that. “He and I go way back, back to my days with the CIA. We met my first day and have stayed in contact ever since. I’ve always viewed him as an older brother, but recently I found out that he thinks he’s in love with me.”

“It’s pretty clear he cares for you. The guy was all over me that day in the conference room.”

“Yeah, he was a little over the top—but that’s Nathan for you. He thinks we were made to be together.”

“Well. We both know that’s impossible.
We
were made to be together,” Trevor smiled softly.

“Yes.” Cassandra lowered her voice. “Even though Nate knows I have never thought of him in a romantic way, he almost had me convinced otherwise.”

Trevor could list a number of reasons why he was crazy about Cassandra. She was amazingly stubborn, crazily determined, intelligent, gentle, loving, beautiful…his list could go on forever, and he was fairly certain that Nathan’s list must mirror his own. Nathan couldn’t help but love her.

Cassandra’s tone became somber and the shadows returned to her eyes. “It happened just before you and I met. Nate had come to San Francisco on business and we met for dinner one night. We ended up in his room for a nightcap. One thing led to another and we…we slept together.”

While Trevor’s story with Cassandra had been incendiary from day one even though they had only known each other for a short time, he knew deep in his heart what Cassandra had told him was true. She didn’t feel anything for Nathan aside from friendship, and he was surprised to hear that she had been intimate with him.

Trevor knew he should leave the conversation untouched and end it then and there. It was none of his business, after all. But a strange tightness bunched in his chest as if he were being pinned down under a heavy weight.
Is this what jealousy feels like?
The intensity of it was something new to him. He wasn’t sure he was happy taking the role of a mad jealous boyfriend or husband, but he could now totally understand the reaction behind it.

He studied Cassandra’s face; it was clear that she didn’t have fond memories of that night. Disappointment and regret lurked in the shadows. Her expression and his unexpected fiery feelings fueled him to ask, “He didn’t force you into it, did he?”

“No. I thought I could settle. That night proved to me, without a doubt, I can’t. Unfortunately, Nate doesn’t see things the same way. He believes, now more than ever, that we belong together.”

Trevor realized that what he had seen in her eyes was a deep disappointment in the decision she had made that night. It bothered him that Nathan was turning out to be more of a pill then he’d originally thought. The conversation he had overheard now made total sense to him. She had told Nathan there was nothing between them aside from friendship.
Nathan better snap out of it.
He truly hoped she was right and Nathan would accept the fact that he’d never had her, and never would. Something dark boiled inside him, something he had never felt before. The idea of unleashing that unknown side scared him. He wasn’t sure how he would react if Nathan didn’t stop hounding Cassandra, but he was certain it wouldn’t be with niceties.

The turbulence in Trevor’s eyes caused Cassandra’s throat to tighten, making it hard to breathe. Holding the sheet in place she walked over to where he was sitting and looked down at him. “Believe me when I say this, Trevor. Nobody has ever made me feel the way you do. I realize now, I was waiting for
the one
who would fill the void in my life. You.”

The heated emotions in Trevor’s eyes cleared and a smile sparkled in them as he pulled her to his lap and gathered her in his arms. “Yes,
a ghrá
, we were waiting for each other.”

Gripping the back of her neck he turned her face to his and kissed her. His kiss conveyed that he had put their conversation behind them. She had been irrevocably branded in a way that could never be erased. She kissed him back. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for the man who had come to mean the world to her. A huge weight had been knocked from her shoulders. She couldn’t help but smile foolishly at him.

“As much as you’re tempting me with this manly display of your assets and the newest development nudging my makeshift toga, I think we need to get our butts moving, Mr. Bauer, or we’ll miss our train. I seem to recall some mention of snuggling in a tiny private cabin on the way back to Paris.”

With a wicked grin, Cassandra moved from Trevor’s lap and headed for the shower. He couldn’t help but smile widely—that was, until she let the sheet drop as she passed the bed. The image of her curvy figure knocked the wind out of him. It blanked all thoughts from his mind and he decided to join her in the shower. All in the spirit of saving time—at least, that was the excuse he gave himself as he padded to the bathroom.

****

Nathan woke to the sound of his phone vibrating on the night table. Instantly alert, he picked it up and saw the email icon flashing. He frowned at seeing the sender’s name: Cassandra. He sat in bed and checked the time, realizing it was late morning in France. He stared at the email without quite reading it, still angry at the memory of their last conversation.

His scowl became even deeper as he recalled the guy’s voice when he’d answered the phone. There was nothing but to assume that they were in bed together. With a growl, he tossed his phone back on the night table and rolled over, turning his back on it. But as hard as he tried to ignore the phone, his mind kept straying to it until finally, with a curse, he sat up and grabbed it again, opening her email.

Concern squeezed his chest. The tone of the email was businesslike—but then again, he should have expected it after their last exchange. She needed information in a bad way; although she didn’t elaborate, it sounded as if it something heavy was going down. Anger still burned in his gut to think of Cassandra in the arms of the NSA geek. It would serve her right if he ignored her request.

He leaned back on the bed, bouncing the phone in his hand, trying to decide what to do. Just when he was about to delete the email, Nathan realized he couldn’t. If she were to get hurt because he had withheld critical information, he could never live with himself.
Damn it, Cass!

He headed out to his office at Langley earlier than usual. He would dig up anything he could find and send it over to her. If that helped her finish what she was doing and brought her home sooner, even better. Once she was back, this fling of hers would be over—he was sure of it. Then he would be there, as he always had been, to take her back.

****

Following his satisfying but unsuccessful encounter with Carl Kenyon, Niklas had gotten a buzz cut, hoping to somewhat change his appearance. It was time he picked up Ms. James’s trail so he could leave Monte Carlo and head on to the next assignment. He had accepted this one thinking he would be done with it in a couple of days.
A simple retrieval and elimination, my ass
.

He knew, based on Kenyon’s reaction, that he must have been double-crossed. Sometime between the time Carl had gone gambling and entering the room, the hard drive had disappeared from the safe. That meant one thing: whoever took it was close. Very close.

Considering the dossier he had received on Ms. James, he believed she was a bloodhound like himself, capable of anything. His friend was sure of her involvement. His instincts pointed to the logical conclusion: she had the hard drive. He needed to find her to retrieve it, finish that job, and move on to his next.

At the thought of his next assignment, a malicious look crossed his face, causing several tourists to flee from his path as they saw it. He chuckled to himself.
If they only knew
. He cracked his knuckles and picked up his pace. First stop, the Hôtel Métropole to see if he could get a lead on her.

****

Niklas sat in the lobby area, under the guise of a regular visitor. The place had the usual whirl of guests coming and going. He was gloating at the knowledge that they had no idea of his handiwork sitting in a room on the second floor. Niklas laughed loudly inside his head. It was clear no one had found the body overnight. There was no police tape or commotion in the area. He would love to sit tight and watch the show when housekeeping finally came upon Carl’s body. He smirked at the thought. Pity. It might take a couple of days for the hotel staff to realize they had a little mess to deal with, and he couldn’t wait that long. He had bigger fish to fry.

He had spent the last few hours staking out the lobby, observing the customer service attendant as he plotted his next course of action. She was the flirty type, and he knew exactly how he would play her to get the information he wanted—to find out if Ms. James was a guest of the hotel.

Niklas was about to make his move, when suddenly there she was—the elusive Ms. James—exiting the elevator. He remained in his seat as adrenaline coursed through his veins and watched her walk to the registration desk. Finally, she was in his grasp. But his elation was short-lived when he caught sight of the man who joined her.

He noticed the air of casual intimacy between the two as they checked out. His eyes wandered over Cassandra James. She was a beautiful woman, even more so than the picture he had of her depicted. Beautiful or not, she would pay for making his job more difficult than it should have been.

When they left the hotel, he followed them to the train station, where he furtively observed as they approached the ticket booth and then left with boarding passes. Once they were out of sight, he walked up to the booth.

“Can I help you, sir?” the girl behind the glass asked him in French.

“I sure hope you can,” he grinned, turning on the charm. He was an attractive man, or so he had been told, and it had been a useful tool in his line of business.

“I was supposed to meet a couple of friends for the trip back home but I was late and missed them. Do you know if a couple of American tourists have already picked up their tickets? The man is about six feet tall with brown hair. He was accompanied by a woman. She’s about my height with longish hair. They’re a striking couple. You wouldn’t miss them.”

The woman took the bait easily. They always did when he turned on the charm. “I think I know who you mean. They were here just a minute ago.”

“Great! I’m such a klutz—I spilled coffee on my shirt and was delayed when I had to change.”

When she glanced down at his shirt, he faked a flirty smile. “I really need to catch up with them. Can I buy a ticket for their same destination, please?” He grinned widely, projecting an air of excitement at having found his friends. She smiled back and processed the purchase, handing him his tickets and indicating which platform he should go to.

****

Niklas boarded the train headed to Nice and set out in search of Ms. James and her companion to keep an eye on them during the short trip. Carefully, he made his way down the center aisle, covertly checking each row before moving on to the next train car. He was about to move to yet another when he spotted them sitting just on the other side of the door.