Heart of Gold (14 page)

“I know.”

He knew because the same fear had raked its talons through him, the force of it leaving him shaken. Not so long ago Shane had thought himself incapable of caring that deeply. He had believed the job had robbed him of that basic human quality, but he’d been wrong.

He ran a hand into Faith’s tangled curls and eased her head to his chest where she wept silently, her tears soaking into his shirt. She felt so small in his arms, so fragile, so in need of his protection.

“Come on, honey,” he murmured, leading her toward the door that connected her room to Lindy’s. “You need to get some rest.”

Reluctantly Faith went with him. She was so exhausted she couldn’t think straight. Shane was probably right, she needed rest. But the thought of being alone with her fear made her throat tighten convulsively.

“Don’t leave me,” she whispered.

Quietly closing and locking the door that connected the two rooms, Shane turned to face her. With no thought about professionalism or detachment or objectivity, he took her in his arms and hugged her. Rubbing his cheek against the top of her head, he whispered, “I won’t leave you.”

He bent his head and softly kissed the remnants of her tears from her pale cheeks. Faith murmured his name, her trembling hands running up and down the bulging muscles of his arms. He was so strong, so solid, and he possessed the power to make her forget everything. In his arms she could lose herself, she could escape.

She tilted her face up, her trembling mouth capturing his in a kiss that was as soft and fragile as a rose petal. When she spoke, the plea was in her eyes as well as her voice. “Make love to me, Shane. Please. I need you.”

Shane’s heart ached as he looked down at her. He didn’t question her need or her motives. In truth he needed this union as badly as Faith did. She needed to lose herself in the sweetness of their lovemaking. He needed to comfort her and reassure himself that she was safe, that she was his to care for and protect.

They came together not in a blaze of passion, but with exquisite tenderness and a deep hunger that each sought to prolong. Faith savored every kiss, every caress, blocking her mind to everything but her need to be loved by this man. She focused on the incredible sensations he aroused in her body as he lavished attention on her breasts with his mouth and probed the honeyed warmth between her thighs with his gentle musician’s fingers. Desire built slowly over the foundation of desperation, until she felt encompassed by it.

“Shane.” She groaned his name as her fingernails raked the hard muscles of his back. “Now. Please take me now.”

At her command he slid into her in one powerful thrust, filling the tight hot sheath of her womanhood, reaching deep to stroke the very center of her need. Faith let go the last tattered threads of her control. Wrapping her legs around his lean hips, she surged upward beneath him, meeting his powerful thrusts and begging for more, begging for the ecstasy that would blind her to all else.

Shane felt the end rushing toward them. He wrapped one strong arm around Faith, lifting her so that her nipples burrowed through his chest hair to rub against his burning flesh. He brushed her damp hair back from her face and kissed her deeply, almost wildly, thrusting his tongue into her mouth in the same rhythm as he thrust himself between her legs, branding her as his in the most basic way he could.

Faith’s hands stroked down his back to his hips, her fingers digging into the tight muscles of his buttocks. With one last stroke he took her over the edge, and the inner pulsing that signaled her fulfillment triggered his. A hoarse cry tearing from his throat, Shane arched against her and spilled himself in her.

“I love you,” Faith whispered as Shane’s body relaxed on top of her, his weight bearing down on her with a delicious warmth. Her lips brushed across the roughness of his evening beard as she murmured the words again, then fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.

Shane raised up on one elbow above her and studied her face in the soft light from the bedside lamp.
I love you
. He didn’t say the words aloud, but they reverberated throughout his whole being. Despite all his warnings he had fallen in love with Faith Kincaid.

He’d never felt so vulnerable in his life. And, at the same time, the truth warmed him. After years of living in cold gray shadows, Faith’s love was reaching out to him like a beacon. This sweet, good woman was offering him a chance to start over, and every weary corner of his warrior’s heart wanted to accept.

It felt as if he were standing on a threshold with the darkness of his past behind him and the possibility of a future with Faith before him. Faith was standing in that doorway as well. Their pasts were intertwined now, and until they could shut that door, until this case was over, their future would have to wait.

Still, Shane thought as Faith cuddled close against him, he had a future, and for the first time in a long time it didn’t look bleak or empty.

NINE

“W
E TRACED THE
call to a phone booth in Mendocino,” Shane reported, drumming his fingertips on the computer printout that lay on the table before him.

“And?” John Banks prompted, his typically sardonic tone not made any more pleasant by the fact that he’d dragged himself out of bed and onto a plane at the crack of dawn. His thick head of steel gray hair was so unruly, he looked as though he had come through a wind tunnel. He needed a shave. His disposition was as rumpled as the dark suit that covered his sturdy frame.

“No distinguishable prints. Fiber evidence isn’t worth a damn at this point—a hundred people go in and out of that phone booth every day.”

“Wonderful.” Banks pulled off his glasses to rub at the bridge of his big nose. Replacing them, he stabbed Shane with a pointed look.

“He’s playing games with us,” Shane said. “Each of the letters he’s sent has a different postmark. Each of the calls we’ve managed to trace has been from a different town—all within a fifty-mile radius. We’ve got them on tape, but his voice is either too muffled or mechanically altered to make them of any use.”

“Suggestions?”

“I want Faith and Lindy moved to a safe house,” Shane said in a tone of voice that did not invite an opposing opinion. He took a strong pull on his cigarette and leveled his gaze at Faith, daring her to defy his plan.

They had been over this already. At three o’clock in the morning. Shane had awakened to find Faith pacing back and forth beside her bed, anxious and angry over the situation her ex-husband had embroiled her in and the feelings of helplessness that had all but overwhelmed her.

Now they sat at one of the larger tables in the inn’s dining room with afternoon light streaming in through the tall windows. The setting was different, but it was quite clear by the angle of Faith’s chin that the argument was going to be the same. Under all her sweetness, behind those gorgeous brown eyes the lady had a true Irish temper.

The door to the kitchen swung open, and Alaina and Jayne walked in, Alaina looking very official with her dark hair pulled back and black-rimmed glasses framing her arctic blue eyes. Jayne’s expression was one of wide-eyed intensity, as if she had just been thrust into a scene in a movie. Shane bristled at the intrusion, but Faith cut him off before he could voice his objection.

“I asked Alaina and Jayne to sit in on this meeting,” she said. Shane shot a burning look her way. Her slim shoulders stiffened, and she stuck her chin out a little farther. “Alaina is my attorney, and Jayne is … well … Jayne is my friend.”

“And spiritual confidant,” Jayne added, sliding down on a chair.

Shane rolled his eyes. Banks frowned, but it was hard to discern whether he was frowning at the addition to the powwow or at Jayne’s outfit—a wildly flowered dirndl skirt that hung to her dainty ankles and an oversize Notre Dame T-shirt, the end of which was tied in a knot at her waist.

“As I was saying,” Shane began in a tight voice, when the door swung open again and Mr. Fitz marched in.

“Here I am, as ye asked, lassie,” he said, nodding purposefully to Faith as he tugged on the bottom of his smelly brown coat.

The glower Shane turned on her was almost enough to make Faith swallow her bravado. “Are you the least familiar with the concept of the need-to-know basis?” he questioned in a dark, silky voice.

“Um … Mr. Fitz lives here,” she said, not wanting to admit she had wanted all these people present for moral support more than anything. “He needs to know.”

Shane’s hands clenched the edge of the table like vise clamps as he struggled with his temper. “Why don’t we just call the Anastasia
Gazette
and tell them everything that’s going on here?”

Faith sniffed. “You don’t have to get snippy.”

“I’m drawing the line here, Faith,” Shane said through his teeth. He turned to the bearded, bedraggled caretaker. “You can go, Mr. Fitz. You
don’t
need to know.”

The old man’s beetle brows waggled furiously as he gave Shane a hard stare, then turned and left, grumbling under his breath.

“Can we get on with this, please?” Banks asked pointedly.

“Yes.” Shane turned toward Faith once again and gave her a direct order. “Pack what you need. We’re moving you out of here.”

“No.” She watched Shane blow smoke out of his nose and wondered how much of it could be attributed to his mood rather than his cigarette. He didn’t like her plan, but her mind was made up. She was all through playing this hellish waiting game. The scare she’d had over Lindy’s disappearance the day before had pushed her to take the offensive. Her chin came up a notch, and she turned toward Banks, meeting his bloodshot green eyes with a fierce look.

“I want the man caught. I want him punished.”

Banks opened his mouth to comment, but Shane ignored his boss. All his attention was focused on the woman he had just discovered that he loved. “I want you safe, Faith.”

“That’s what I want too,” Faith insisted, her eyes begging him to understand. “I can’t go on like this, living in a state of terror, waiting and waiting. I can’t go on letting William Gerrard victimize me.”

Shane’s stubborn expression didn’t alter a fraction. “Then we’ll put you in a safe house until the trial is over.”

“And then what? What do I do if you never catch this madman? Am I supposed to go on forever waiting for William’s accomplice to take revenge?”

She wasn’t going to like his next suggestion, Shane knew, but it was the only foolproof solution. It was the solution the frightened man inside him wanted put into motion immediately—anything to keep Faith safe. The idea of anyone hurting her or Lindy scared the hell out of him. “Then we put you in the witness protection program.”

“Absolutely not. This inn is my home, Shane, my dream. I came here with my friends to start a new life. I will not let William steal that from me. When I left him, I vowed I would never let him manipulate me again. That’s exactly what I’d be doing if I went into hiding. I want this ended now.” She turned back toward Banks. “I want to set a trap.”

Again when Banks opened his mouth to offer an opinion, Shane jumped in ahead of him. His low, rough voice had the razor edge of steel in it, which matched the glint in his gray eyes perfectly. He brought Faith’s attention back to himself by snatching hold of her wrist, as if he thought he could change her mind with the strength of his grip. “No way in hell am I letting you set yourself up as bait.”

Faith glared up at him, her dark eyes blazing. “Isn’t that what I’ve been all along?”

Shane ground his teeth. He couldn’t deny it. From the beginning the plan had been to construct a loose net around Faith in order to capture the missing piece from the DataScam puzzle. The difference—the very big difference—was that Shane hadn’t been in love with Mrs. William Gerrard, the woman he had been sent here to watch over. He was very much in love with Faith Kincaid, the woman who had quietly stolen her way into his heart over the past few weeks.

It went against everything in him to allow her to put herself in danger. In fact, the idea terrified him. It was the kind of fear that reached deep inside, past all his barriers to the lonely man who had distanced himself from others all these years. He hated the feeling, hated the way it interfered with his logic.

“What you’re talking about is entirely different.” He fairly growled the words as he ground out his cigarette on the delicate china saucer before him.

Faith met his fierce gaze without flinching. A corner of her mind was aware that Shane’s attitude was stemming from something other than professional judgment, but she couldn’t wonder about that right now. This was not the time for romantic fantasies. It was time for her to take control of her fate. “What I’m talking about is putting an end to this so I can get on with my life.”

“If we follow your damn fool plan, you may not have a life to get on with!” Trying to dominate her with his size, he leaned over her until they were practically nose to nose. Faith didn’t so much as blink.

“I’m with Shane,” Alaina announced. Faith’s expression clearly branded her a traitor, but that didn’t sway Alaina’s judgment. “You’re under no obligation to help catch this person, Faith. The burden of his arrest is on the government, as is your right to protection. As your legal counsel and your friend, I advise against your scheme.”

“Well, I’m with Faith,” Jayne said, always ready to stick up for the underdog. “A person can live in suspense for only so long—about the length of a Hitchcock movie. This has already gone on too long. And if Faith strongly feels it’s her destiny to help capture this man … well, then maybe it’s just her karma,” she said with a decisive nod. She gave Faith her most supportive look. “As long as there’s a hundred cops around and no chance of you getting hurt, I think it’s a good idea.”

Alaina slanted her a look. “This from someone who thought mood rings were a good idea.”

“They were,” Jayne grumbled, crossing her arms over her meager bosom. “Just because yours was always black—”

“May I interject a thought here?” Banks questioned dryly, raising his big square hands in supplication. “After all, I did just fly the width of the continent to be in on this discussion.”

Shane shot his boss a glare of pure annoyance. “What?”

“I think Ms. Kincaid has a point.”

Shane’s answer to that was a rude snort. He slumped back in his chair like a sulky teenager and scowled at Faith. “I think Ms. Kincaid has a screw loose.”

Faith’s temper boiled over abruptly. She was operating on too much anxiety and too little sleep. Her chair scraped back against the polished wood floor as she pushed herself to her feet.

“Just what is your problem?” she demanded, bracing her small hands on the tabletop and leaning over Shane for a change. “You came here perfectly willing to use me as cheese to trap this rat. Now that I’m willing to play an active part in your plan, you suddenly want to put me under lock and key! It doesn’t make any sense!”

Shane shoved his own chair back from the table and stood, regaining his considerable height advantage.

“It doesn’t have to make sense,” he declared, his voice a menacing purr as he moved a step closer to her, his hands jammed at the waistband of his gray trousers.

Faith leaned toward him, heedless of the muscle twitching in his rock-solid jaw. They’d been arguing this same point for hours, never getting past it. She’d had it with his wall of arrogant reserve.

“Why?” she prodded, bent on breaking that cool control of his and getting a straight answer out of him. She inched ahead until the toes of her small canvas sneakers butted up against Shane’s black loafers. “Because you’re in charge? Because you’re on some typically male power trip that dictates you have to have control over a mere woman? Because—”

“Because I’m in love with you, dammit!” he bellowed.

The room went suddenly, utterly still. Faith was certain she could hear the dust motes settling on the furniture. She stared at Shane with her mouth hanging open as his words sank in. He was in love with her. He was in love with her, but he didn’t appear to be very happy about it. Well, she thought, her head swimming, that definitely gave them something in common.

John Banks cleared his throat discreetly, breaking the tense silence. Faith hauled a deep breath into her lungs as she stepped away from the confrontation, her cheeks turning pink. Shane’s broad shoulders sagged as he forced the tension from his muscles. He stared down at the floor, not quite able to believe he had just blurted out his deepest feelings—in front of witnesses, no less.

“Agent Callan,” Banks said neutrally as he rose from his chair, brushing ineffectually at his wrinkled suit, “may I speak with you in private?”

Without a word or a glance for anyone, Shane turned on his heel and led the way out through the French doors onto the stone terrace. He stalked to the farthest corner and faced the sea as he lit another cigarette, noting with grim amusement that his hands were shaking.

Dammit, he was losing it completely, losing his edge, losing his perspective … losing his heart … losing his mind.

“I should have taken the R and R,” he said, wryly referring to the advice his boss had given him after the Silvanus bust.

Banks leaned back against the stone wall that surrounded the terrace, his tired eyes calmly studying his best agent. “What? And miss all this fun?”

Shane shot him a venomous look that had the older man chuckling wearily and mumbling under his breath, “The bigger they are …”

Sidestepping the comment, Shane went back to what the professional in him considered the heart of the matter—the case. “I won’t let her play bait in this game.”

“She’s serious about ending this thing, Shane. She wouldn’t have called me in otherwise.”

“I don’t care how serious she is. She’s not calling the shots here; she’s a civilian.”

“Yes, she’s a civilian. Meaning she doesn’t have to take orders from us. If she wants to walk down the main street of Anastasia and invite this creep to take a shot at her, you couldn’t do a damn thing to stop her.”

Shane’s eyes narrowed and glittered dangerously as he said, “You want to make a bet?”

“What are you going to do?” Banks asked with a sarcastic laugh. “Hit her over the head with your dinosaur bone and carry her off to your cave? This is the modern era, pal. Ladies have minds of their own, believe me. Besides, she does have a say in this; it’s her life we’re tinkering with.”

Looking every inch like a cornered panther, Shane wheeled on the man who knew him better than anyone. “I mean it, John. I won’t have her put in any more danger than she’s already in.”

Banks didn’t flinch at the outburst, didn’t blink. “What’s the problem here, Shane? What Faith is proposing is our original scenario taken just one step further. We’re dealing with a single player, a single variable who may or may not be dangerous. So far he’s been long on threats and short on action.”

Shane gave a harsh laugh. “That’s supposed to make it okay? He hasn’t actually killed her yet, so we should give him one good shot at it—just in case he’s really serious?”