For Her Eyes Only (12 page)

He exited the main building, striding purposefully across the snow toward the garage. He shoved thoughts of Christmas parties, Vicky and sexy green dresses out of his mind.

He had some snooping to do.

Chapter Thirteen

Ryan slid the card through the entry lock, and grinned when the light flashed green. Sure, Drew could be annoying, but he did good work.

He quickly let himself inside. Kurt and Paula were in a session with Neil. As long as they didn’t storm out, like he had, he was pretty sure he had at least an hour before they headed back to their cabin. He paused and listened. It was blessedly silent.

First things first
,
though
. He pulled out his radio frequency detector, switched it to silent and swept the cabin for bugs. He frowned when he located them.

So someone was listening in on Kurt and Paula, huh? Perhaps on all of the guests. He’d have to be very quiet then. Irritating, but not impossible. The good thing was that there were no hidden video cameras. He’d checked very carefully.

He started with the wardrobe, silently sliding the doors on their tracks. His eyebrows rose.
Wow
. He wasn’t going to complain about how much junk Vicky had packed ever again. There were enough outfits in the wardrobe to open a clothing—oh, wait, there were men’s clothes, too. Ryan frowned. A lot of men’s clothes.

He searched all the garments, then inside all the shoes lined neatly on the floor. Nothing. He moved on to the drawers, under the bed, pillows, even the mattress, careful to ensure he left everything as he found it.

He moved silently from room to room, searching from top to bottom in a comprehensive sweep. He finally ended up in the bathroom.
Hoo-yeah.
All sorts of bottles lined the vanity. The problem was, he couldn’t tell which product was for Paula, and which was for Kurt. He cocked an eyebrow as he opened the vanity drawers. Kurt might look tough and manly in his muscles, but he was beginning to look just a tad metrosexual.

He opened the mirrored cabinet, and scanned the interior. He frowned. There was a small bottle tucked away at the back. It had been shoved behind a untouched birth control dispenser and a lady razor. He frowned at the label of the bottle. It was a prescription for Paula. He didn’t recognize the name of the drug. It could be medicine for post-surgery. Or it could be a generic happy pill. The resort had a strict policy on drugs — only medicine for a bona fide condition verified previously between the counselors and the client’s medical practitioner were allowed in, so either it was a legitimate medication the staff had approved for Paula, or else she’d been a very sneaky lady. He shrugged. Either way, he’d get Drew to check it out.

He pulled the cell phone from his pocket and used the camera function to snap a picture of the bottle and its label. He then unscrewed the lid and removed one of the tablets for a test sample.

He glanced at his watch. It had taken him a little longer to search the room than he’d anticipated. All those pockets in all those clothes. He shook his head as he placed the bottle back behind the pill dispenser and lady razor, shut the cabinet door and left the bathroom. He was crossing the lounge area when he heard the crunch of feet on the pebbled path outside, and angry voices as Paula and Kurt paused outside the front door.

“Why did you tell him I was jealous?” Kurt complained.

“Because you are,” Paula cried. “You’re always going on about how this guy is so good-looking, and that guy is handsome, and how I’m obviously having sex with everyone I work with. That isn’t jealousy?”

Ryan ran on silent feet to the doors that led to the private terrace as the keycard slid through the lock.

“You mean to tell me you don’t think the men you work with are good-looking?”

“Well, they might be, but I’m married to you, Pookie, not them. I’ve never cheated on you.”

Ryan slid out the door, shutting it carefully behind him, and slithered along the wall as the front door opened, and Kurt and Paula entered their cabin.

“How do I know that? Why would I believe you?”

“Okay, you see this?” Paula gestured between them. “This is jealousy. I’m sick of it.” She stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door closed.

“Yeah, see, you don’t deny it, do you?” Kurt called out, and flopped down onto one of the sofas.

Ryan held still as Kurt turned on the TV and surfed some channels. When he was sure the amateur wrestler was distracted, he crept along the stone wall until he found a spot that was out of sight of the living area, and scaled it quickly, easily finding purchase in the uneven rock face.

He levered himself over the top and dropped down the other side, and quickly made his way through the neighboring trees to the snowmobile he’d “borrowed.” He had to return it and get back to Vicky before anyone questioned his whereabouts.

* * *

Vicky stalked away from Gavin Dryden’s office in a foul mood. Be stronger, he’d told her. Be more demanding. Heck, was she really a weak-kneed timid little mouse with Ryan? Well, admittedly, they never discussed
them
and she never pushed. Was that it? Should she be more pushy, more demanding with Ryan? Like when she brought up the Christmas party? She cringed.

Drunk. He’d thought she was drunk.

She blinked back tears. How mortifying. She’d glammed up, she’d built up the courage to approach Ryan, not as a friend, but as a woman, and somehow she’d blown it. She didn’t know what was worse, not being successful in enticing Ryan, or him thinking she was drunk to even try it.

What’s up with that?
The one time she’d tried to get her inner vamp on, and he’d thought she was drunk.
And
he’d thought she was kissing everyone else, too. She stopped in her tracks as realization struck.
Oh
,
heck
. She was the drunken slut at the Christmas party. Never mind that she’d had only one drink of bubbly on arrival, and that she’d saved the mistletoe for him, and only him. Yet he’d backed away, laughing it off as getting into the festive spirit, and then left the party.

With another woman.

She would give anything to have him look at her and see her—see her as a member of the opposite sex, for starters. Not just the baseball buddy to chug beers with, or the Girl Friday to book his flight and make a reservation for his latest fling.

She sighed as she reached the cloakroom and asked the assistant to bring her parka and gloves. To be fair, maybe this wasn’t a Ryan problem. She’d had the same issue with every relationship since high school. She got close to the guy, they spent some good quality time together, doing the things friends do, and suddenly she was a good friend. A great buddy. She’d heard it so often she could almost recite it by rote.
I
respect you.
You’re special.
I
think you’re a great friend.
Oh, and her favorite:
it’s not you
,
it’s me.
I
have issues.
She snorted. Please. Breaking up wouldn’t be so hard if guys didn’t think they needed to sugarcoat it. That just made it even more pathetic.
Issues
. She snorted again. Everyone had issues. Issues was the new normal.

Admittedly, it cut both ways. She viewed them as friends, too. She donned her coat and pulled on her gloves. And each time they tried to take it to the next level, she seemed to have the Kiss of Boredom effect.

She forcefully pushed the fingers of the gloves over her digits. No zing. No fireworks, and then the relationship would just melt away. With a nod and a wave and a
see you around
, most of her connections with the opposite sex ended with an amicable parting of the ways.

The Christmas party had been different, though. It had been wild. Wicked. Wonderful. Or at least, it had been for her. She paused.
Oh
,
my God
.
What if I’m a dud?
What if she couldn’t entice a man to the dizzying heights of sexual desire?

She nodded to the cloakroom assistant and left the main building, burrowing into her coat and hiding her scowl as the wind rose. Thankfully it wasn’t snowing, but there was plenty of white cover on the ground. She didn’t want to guess what the temperature was. How apt. The cold alpine landscape reflected the bleak loneliness of her relationships.

Is that what it would be like with Ryan, though? By taking their relationship further, would she have the same soporific effect on him as she did with pretty much every other guy on the planet, and ruin whatever it was that they had between them? And did she want to risk their friendship, tumultuous as it was, with a few fleeting moments of heaven in his arms?

Oh
,
crap—what if it wasn’t heaven?
What if it was uncomfortable, awkward and entirely disappointing?

She trudged carefully along the cleared path to the garage. It was very late in the afternoon, and the shadows were stretching longer. She wore fashionable après boots that provided warmth and protection against the cold, wet snow, and enough traction that she could easily keep her balance on the icy path. They also cleverly masked her concealed weapon. She supposed she could ask the resort personnel for someone to drive her back to the cabin, but preferred to get there under her own steam. Relax, soak in a warm bath, and stew over Ryan.

I
hate the cold
. She headed toward the garage door, where two Ultima personnel were gathered. They both wore large hooded jackets, and it wasn’t until she’d come up behind them that she could hear their conversation.

“—just take the snow mobile.” Meagan James said, impatience in her voice. Vicky’s eyebrow rose at the woman’s tone. “You need to book the hire through the front desk, Mr. Winthrop. We need to ensure there’s enough fuel for your requirements. Ultima is a big property, and we need to know when you’re out and about. Where did you go?”

Vicky stared at the other person.
Ryan
.

“Er, I’m sorry, Meagan, I’ll remember for next time.” His tone was warm, with just the right tone of apologetic wryness that seemed to appease the Guest Services Manager.

She nodded. “Okay, then. We just like to know where all our guests are.” The woman turned, and smiled when she caught sight of Vicky. “Oh, hi there.”

Vicky nodded coolly, mindful of the part she had to play. The disgruntled ball and chain.
There goes getting to the lodge for some quality
“
me
”
time
. “Hi, Meagan. I was hoping to get back to my cabin.”

The other woman smiled. “Of course. Why don’t I drive you across myself?” She indicated the oversnow vehicle sitting inside the garage, and Vicky followed her inside, Ryan trailing behind them.

Minutes later they were out on the snow, crunching over the hill toward the ring of privately spaced cabins.

“So, you didn’t go out with your husband this afternoon?” Meagan enquired politely, having to raise her voice over the rumble of the ATV.

“No.
I
attended our counseling session,” Vicky answered with a pointed look to Ryan.

He shrugged and gazed out the window.

Meagan looked at them both in the rearview mirror, then nodded. “I see.” She smiled brightly. “Well, I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time together at the group dinner.”

Vicky frowned. Another evening trying to pretend to be someone she wasn’t in front of a roomful of people, two of whom were stone-cold killers? Just the thought of more duplicity was enough to make her stomach twist. The importance of the job was beginning to press upon her. What if they couldn’t find the Maxwells? These guys were smart, adept at blending in, at being something they weren’t. Or worse, what if the Maxwells found them first?

“Er, actually, I’ll be having dinner in the cabin tonight,” she said. Maybe she could work the case from another angle, check out some of other cabins while the rest of the guests were at dinner. She sensed Ryan’s frown and kept her gaze glued on the ice-covered lake they were driving past.

“Are you sure? We’ve got a games night on tonight—poker, blackjack, roulette, that sort of thing.”

A smile tugged a Vicky’s lips. “Oh, my husband loves a gamble. I’m sure he’ll enjoy it,” she said, darting a swift glance a Ryan. His frown was dark and fierce. “And I insist he joins the evening. I just need some quiet time.”
See
,
two can play at this game.
He’d wriggled out of therapy to do God-only-knows what. Now it was her turn. Besides, she hated card games.

“I understand. We have a shuttle organized to collect all the guests this evening. I’ll put you on the schedule, Mr. Winthrop. The driver will pick you up at six-thirty.” Meagan pulled up in front of their cabin and used the lever to open the door for them. “See you later,” she said brightly as they filed out of the vehicle.

Ryan grasped her hand. Vicky supposed it was to look solicitous in front of Meagan, but she knew from his firm grip, and the tightening of his lips, that he was probably just trying to fight the urge to throttle her.

Ryan slid their key into their slot. He dragged her down through the cabin and out onto the terrace at the rear. The French doors closed with a firm snap behind them, and he pulled her in front of him.

“What the hell are you doing?” he hissed.

Chapter Fourteen

Ryan put his hands on his hips. Damn, she could frustrate a saint. “What’s this about you staying in tonight?”

Vicky looked around the terrace, and he followed her gaze. Large snow drifts banked long the stone walls, and the sun had already disappeared from the sky, leaving the area a pale gray in the encroaching darkness. A chill wind was beginning to pick up, although they were somewhat protected by the stone walls of the terrace. “Is it okay to talk out here?”

He sucked in a breath, trying to calm his impatience. “Yes, we’re fine. They’re probably not expecting any of the guests to stand around jabbering outside in the snow, so didn’t bother with bugs out here. Now, what are you doing tonight?”

Vicky folded her arms. “Gee, Ryan, you seem upset. Why is that?”

His eyes widened, and his hands rose toward her before he caught himself. God, she was frustrating. “Upset? We’re supposed to be a team, damn it. You blindsided me with your plans for tonight. Why didn’t you check with me first?”

Vicky’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, like you checked with me before your little performance this afternoon in Dryden’s office? That kind of checking?”

Ryan paused.
Oh
. “That just kind of evolved. I hadn’t actually planned it.”

“Uh-huh.”

He shrugged. “Look, we do what we have to do, to get the job done. You kept Dryden occupied, and I searched Kurt and Paula’s cabin.” He showed her the master key Drew had given him before sliding it back into his shirt pocket.

“You broke into their room?”

“No. Only entered. You should know by now that I don’t need to break anything to get in.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me that’s what you wanted to do? How can I help you if you don’t share these things with me?”

Ryan frowned. He was beginning to feel like
he
was the one who needed to do some explaining. He didn’t like the feeling. “Look, you did help me. You kept Dryden busy.”

Vicky turned away from him, and she huddled inside her coat. Her body language screamed hurt, and for a moment he wanted to cross to her, rub her arms, keep her warm. Fix whatever the problem was.

“While you went on your merry way. You didn’t trust me, Ryan. You kept me busy, too. You’re doing your own thing, and I feel...useless.”

Her offended tone chafed him, and he shoved his hands inside his jacket pockets. He wasn’t going to feel guilty for doing his job, damn it. This was all new to him, this consulting with a partner on a case. “I’m sorry, Vic. I guess, I’m not used to working with a partner. I’m usually working on my own.”

She peeked at him over her shoulder. Her furred hood framed her face, so her eyes seemed an even brighter green than usual.
Crap
. Unless she was teary.
Please don’t be teary
.

“Well, that’s a problem, isn’t it? I’m working this case with you, Ryan. You need to clue me in. You need to talk to me. What did you find at Paula and Kurt’s?”

He blinked at the change in subject. Quiet. Professional. Unexpected.
So
,
not teary.
Thank God.
He remembered another woman’s tears, and how helpless he was to stop them. He forced his attention back to the present.

“Uh, well, their cabin is bugged too, and I found some medication for Paula in the bathroom. I have no idea what it is, so took a picture with the phone. I’ve also got a sample, which I’ve given to Drew, along with the image from the phone, to take in for analysis.” He’d seen Drew just moments before Meagan James had found him returning the snow mobile.

“So it looks like all the guest cabins are bugged. Interesting. Do you think Kurt and Paula are the Maxwells?” her voice was quiet. She sounded a little upset. No, maybe not upset. Subdued.

“Possibly. The medication in the bathroom could be for a bona fide condition, totally unrelated to our case. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

“So at the moment both Paula and Deborah could be Jade Maxwell,” she said absently, chewing at her lip. Ryan nodded. “Okay, while you’re at the games night, I’ll check out Deborah and Hank’s room,” she told him.

Ryan nodded again, then her words sank in. “Whoa! No. That’s too dangerous. Why don’t you go to the games, and I’ll check out the cabin.” As soon as he said the words, he realized he’d made a tactical blunder.

Vicky cocked her head. “I don’t think so.” She approached him slowly, her hips swinging with each jaunty step until she stood in front of him. She trailed a lazy finger down the open zipper of his jacket. His fists clenched inside his pockets as her hand slid between the lapels of his coat. “I’m going to do my job, and you’re going to do yours,” she murmured, her voice low and husky. Her hand slid across his chest, and his nipple peaked under his shirt. She leaned closer. He swallowed.

“What did you say? We do what we have to do, to get the job done,” she whispered in his ear, then drew away, holding up the master key he’d put in his shirt pocket. “And you’re going to trust me to do the job.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “That’s not fair.” If he tried to stop her, she’d claim he didn’t trust her. He did. Just— “I want to keep you safe, Vic.” There. He’d said it. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Her brow furrowed, just slightly. “Why do you think I need you to keep me safe? Do you think Reese would let me do this if he thought I couldn’t handle it?” her voice was soft, enquiring, and not the shout he was expecting. “I can take care of myself, Ryan.”

He averted his gaze, looking down at the stylish boots she wore.
This is—ugh.
Awkward.
“I know you can take care of yourself. I just—I just need to make sure you’re safe.”

“Why?”

He dug his toe into the snow, the low crunch not nearly satisfying in trying to quash his unease at this discussion. “Because.”

“Because why?”

“Because—because you’re my partner, all right?” And he wouldn’t cope if anything bad happened to her. He thought of another woman he hadn’t been able to rescue and blew out his cheeks. No. He wouldn’t cope if
that
happened to Vicky.

“One day you’re going to have to trust me,” she said as she pocketed the master key.

He got the feeling she wasn’t just talking about the job. Ryan chewed the inside of his cheek. Damn it. He wanted Vicky to think he trusted her, but he needed to be there to keep her safe. If he protested her plan, she’d be hurt, and more than a little pissed. If he let her go, and something happened to her—
argh
.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he muttered.
When in doubt
,
don’t commit either way.
He stomped back into the cabin.

* * *

Drew kept his eyes closed as Mandy rose from the bed. She was going to great pains to ensure he remained asleep. He heard her drifting around the room, gathering her clothes and getting dressed as quietly as possible.

He tried not to frown. He was usually the one to leave before his bedmate woke up, wasn’t used to it when being done to him. He should probably let her go, and not pressure her with any questions she didn’t want to answer. Not make a scene.
Probably.
He stretched, yawned, and looked at her.

Mandy was bent over, slipping a shoe on, and she stared at him, eyes wide, like a deer caught in a hunter’s spotlight. “Hey, babe,” he said, his voice rusty from sleep. He glanced at his watch. They still had a little while before his evening shift started. “Where are you off to?”

Mandy smiled and crept over the rumpled bedcovers to him. She pressed her lips to his in a long, hot kiss that had him reaching for her, and she laughed as she dodged his arms. “Oh, no, you don’t, tiger. I just have to pop out for a little while. I’ll see you later.”

“Well, if you want to wait, I can get dressed and come with you,” Drew offered silkily. “Then we can come back here and play some more.”

Mandy looked tempted for a moment, then her gaze shifted, and she ducked her head as she rose from the bed and shrugged into her parka. “No, it’s fine. I’ll only be gone for a little while. I have to be back in time for my shift, otherwise that dragon, James, will dock my pay.”

Drew grimaced. One thing he’d learned about the resort manager was that she didn’t suffer fools, she had an eagle-eye for detail, and made it hard to snoop. “She’s something, all right.”

Mandy nodded. “Yep. I’m still trying to find her good side. It’s like she has to prove herself, but she’s just proving she can be a class A ballbuster. Well, new broom and all that, I guess.”

“Well, why don’t I help you? Two hands,” he said, holding his hands up, palms out, wiggling his fingers suggestively.

She laughed. “No, it’s fine. I’ll meet you back here after your shift, and we can play all sorts of games,” she said, fingering the collar of her housekeeping uniform, a sexy smile on her lips. Drew’s body tightened at her suggestion.

“Sure. No problem.”

Mandy winked and left his room with a wave. Drew threw off the blankets and hurriedly got dressed, shucking his shoes on and grabbing his coat and knitted cap. Mandy was hiding something. He’d already noticed how she occasionally disappeared, sometimes even leaving the resort during her shift. What was she up to, and why didn’t she want to confide in him? He didn’t judge. Hell, he was no saint, and he made a point not to judge others unfairly. He cracked the door open and peered down the hall of the staff wing. Most of the employees lived on the resort in a section of the main building. At the moment, the hall was empty.

Drew ran down the hall toward the stairs. She could take either the stairs or the elevator, and he was taking a gamble. He opened the door silently and stepped into the stairwell as quietly as possible. He listened. There, just a faint pitter-patter of shoes on stairs. He looked over the stair rail. Mandy was close to the bottom. He padded on silent feet down the stairwell, keeping back from the rail so that she didn’t see him on the off chance she looked up. She didn’t.

She got to the bottom and walked steadily along the corridor until she got to the exit. She pushed the door open, and paused for a moment. Drew stopped and stepped back up until he could hide behind a corner of the stairwell. Mandy dragged a little tin and used it to prop the door open, then slipped her white shoes off and donned the boots that stood just inside the door. He recognized the ashtray some of the staff used when they popped outside for a cigarette. She’d planned this.

Mandy left the building, and Drew jogged along the corridor, just in time to see her disappearing into the woods. Drew zipped up his coat, pulled his cap on, and followed. It was getting dark outside, the wind was picking up, and Mandy was doing her best to avoid being seen. He crept from one tree to another, and hid behind the thick trunks whenever Mandy glanced over her shoulder. Keeping his distance, he pursued her until she left the woods and crossed open snow toward a cabin.

She was visiting one of the guest cabins. He hunkered down behind a fir tree and watched as she knocked on the door, glancing around as she did so. After a moment the door opened, and Elliot greeted Mandy with a smile and a scorching kiss. They spoke for a moment, and Mandy dug something out of her pocket. From this distance, Drew couldn’t quite see what she handed Elliot, but it looked like a little plastic bag with something in it. The man looked it over in his hand and finally nodded. Pills? Drugs? Medicine for facial reconstruction?

Mandy made a gesture about leaving, but Elliot opened the door further. Mandy hesitated, then launched herself at the man, kissing and tugging at his clothes as they stumbled further into the cabin. The front door closed with a slam.

Drew sat in the snow for a while, staring at that front door. Disappointment rose, a bitter taste in his mouth as he slowly rose to his feet and turned back.
Damn
. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out what they were doing in that cabin. Drew’s features set in a scowl as he trudged back through the forest. Mandy was sleeping with Elliot. Well, it wasn’t like they’d had an exclusive arrangement. She didn’t even know Drew’s real name, for crying out loud. He couldn’t really criticize her for her actions. Well, apart from the lying and sneaking around—but that would be kind of like the pot calling the kettle a lying cheater, wouldn’t it?

And what was she delivering to Elliot, anyway? He wished he’d had his binoculars with him, but, well, he’d left in too much of a hurry to think of them. His frowned deepened when he reached the main building. Just what were Mandy and Elliot up to?

Apart from the obvious.

He nudged the ashtray out of the way with his foot as he entered the building, and nodded at the satisfying clang as the door closed behind him. He knew it was petty, but it made him feel better. Just a little.

* * *

The bedroom door slammed, and Simon glared at Jade as she stood in front of the mirror, buttoning up her shirt. She arched an eyebrow. “What’s the matter?”

“She’s alive.” He held up a rolled up newspaper a staff member had thrown in a bin.

She frowned. “What? Who?”

“The nurse. She’s recovering in the hospital.”

She gasped and reached for the paper. “What?” She unrolled the edition.

“Page three,” he snapped. He expected her to fix this problem.

She fumbled with the pages until she found the article, and quickly scanned the story, her eyes darting from the text to the grainy image. In a critical but stable condition. She shook her head. “No.”

“Yes,” Simon hissed. “And she knows what we’re planning.”

Jade’s fingers clenched, the paper crumpling in her contorted fingers, and she growled, low and guttural. Her arms trembled, her eyes wide, and then she took a deep breath. She lifted her gaze to his, and he took comfort in the rage he saw in her eyes.

“No witnesses,” she said.

He nodded. “No witnesses.”

“I’ll take care of it.”