Heat Seeker (17 page)

“Bailey.” He caught her arm as she opened the door. “Are you okay?”

She turned back to him and felt her stomach sink. What was that expression on his face? No, it couldn’t be love. She had fooled herself into believing that once before. The heavy, intent look in his eyes might be caring—she had no doubt he cared—but it wasn’t love. Love didn’t walk away for revenge. It didn’t desert the heart it had stolen and it didn’t return for a job. It returned because it had no other choice. Because life was empty without that heart that beat life inside it. She was very much afraid her life would be even emptier when he left her. Again.

THINGS CHANGE. EMOTIONS
harbored so long inside a woman’s heart can’t always be denied. The need, the hunger, the feeling of a connection, a bond—there was no way to turn away from it. No way to ignore it.

Bailey awoke the next morning with that knowledge burning inside her, driving her from an empty bed to the shower, where she fought back the tears that would have poured from her eyes.

She awoke alone. After the most incredible night of her life, she was alone when her eyes opened. Just as she had always been alone.

Gathering clothes together, she forced herself into the shower, forced back the anger and the pain as she got ready for the day.

John hadn’t made any promises and as much as she wanted to find ways to believe he was another man, as many traits as she could attribute to him, still more overshadowed them.

He was John Vincent, and John Vincent might not love her. He probably didn’t love her. She was an asset, just as she had always been. She had been an asset to her father, she was an asset to those she had grown up with and she was now an asset to an agency that she didn’t even understand.

Dressing seemed to take forever. It sapped the strength she knew she needed to face the man whose arms she had
fallen asleep within just as it sapped the hope that had begun building within her. Not so much that he was Trent as that this emotion she felt inside would be returned.

Shaking it away wasn’t easy. Forcing back the weakness was almost impossible. It wasn’t permanent, she told herself. It was simply the afteraffects of a night in the arms of a very skilled lover and her own wayward emotions.

They had gotten her into trouble before; they had always led her onto the path of destruction. She was simply a magnet for heartbreak, it seemed.

A mocking smile tugged at her lips as she finished her makeup and flipped the brush through her hair one last time before surveying herself in the mirror.

She looked okay. She didn’t look as though her heart was breaking and she didn’t look as though another dream was slowly unraveling around her.

Vengeance.

She breathed in deeply, forcing that thought through her system, into her brain, into her heart. She might not have a chance at love, but she did have a chance at vengeance. For Anna and Mathilda, for her parents. Especially for her parents. She had a chance to make their murderer pay.

And for now, for a moment in time, she would have John. Not that it would ever be enough, but when it was over at least she wouldn’t have the regret that she hadn’t tried, that she hadn’t fought for what her heart had tried to claim.

She’d let months go by before she had ever hinted to Trent that she desired him. It was time she had no intentions of wasting with John.

He was a secretive bastard. He was dominant, he edged at being controlling, but they were all traits she had as well. They would clash while they were together, but the memories . . . She smiled at the thought. She would have the memories when it was over.

If they survived the mission they were on. And that brought up another point she hadn’t wanted to face. When all this was over, she was set to possess some very powerful enemies. The men in this little group liked to think that they
policed themselves. That they kept themselves under control. They wouldn’t appreciate her stepping in. And there was always the chance that more than one of them was involved. She wasn’t overlooking that angle.

She hoped she wasn’t overlooking anything. She’d been tracking Warbucks and Orion for years. After she’d eliminated those who couldn’t possibly be involved, it had left her with four men who had the power, the resources, and the connections to accomplish the thefts and sales that had gone through.

Pushing her feet into a pair of well-worn hiking boots, she tied them quickly before heading downstairs for the coffee she knew the housekeeper would have prepared. Daylight filled the room, a cold dim light that sent a chill racing through her body despite the warmth of the house.

It would snow soon, she thought as she glanced out the huge front windows in the foyer. She could see the clouds lying over the mountains and bearing down on them. The forecast for the next week mentioned blizzard conditions nearing.

They had less than three weeks to accomplish the identification of Warbucks. The sale was coming soon. A broker would be chosen; within days negotiations would begin and a price would be set.

She had to ensure that John received the contract.

It amazed her how totally business-like these transactions now went.

Once upon a time things weren’t nearly so civilized and in a lot of ways it had been much easier then to track and to apprehend the traitors involved in such sales. Now they were shielded by brokers, middlemen, and a professional atmosphere including background checks, moles in law enforcement agencies, and negotiations for pending sales.

It was becoming a pain in the ass, more so than normal, to apprehend the criminals hiding behind third-world nations and international connections.

Shaking her head at the thought, she turned and headed into the kitchen. The scent of smooth, rich coffee wafted
through the air, tempting her. But something more drew her as well: the sound of hushed voices, male and female. John’s and an unknown woman’s.

She drew closer on silent feet, edging to the doorway but still unable to hear exactly what they were saying.

Lips thinning, she checked the holstered weapon she’d clipped at her back, beneath her light sweater, before straightening her shoulders and sliding into the room.

John turned to her immediately, his expression closed as the redhead standing close to him hid a quick smile.

Slender, toned, her red-gold hair flowing down her back, her sea-green eyes both amused and cynical, the other woman appeared both worldly and innocent, as well as familiar.

Dressed in jeans, boots, and a heavy sweater, the younger woman looked like a tourist out for a hike rather than someone who would be involved in what Bailey had decided was John’s very dangerous life.

Tilting her head to the side, she stared back at the woman as she tried to ignore the stinging bite of jealousy. Though John seemed more irritated by the woman than aroused by her. Funny, but she could have sworn the curve of his lips, the way his nose flared, and the jut of his jaw were identical to Trent’s when he had been irritated.

“Hello, Bailey. I hope you don’t mind if I call you Bailey.” The redhead didn’t wait for an introduction. She moved across the room, her hand extended in greeting as a bright smile curved her lips. “I’m John’s handler, Tehya.”

“His handler?” Bailey arched her brow as she turned back to John, shooting him a curious look while shaking the woman’s hand.

Distantly, she noticed the less-than-baby-soft smoothness of Tehya’s palm, the firm grip, the warmth and lack of moisture. This wasn’t a woman who would show nerves easily, or even feel them easily. She was confident, determined, and showed no signs of an agenda.

“My handler.” He nodded. “Every good broker has one.”

“It’s what makes a broker good.” Tehya grinned. “Every good assassin has one as well. That was Orion’s weakness.
His handler was frightened of him rather than confident in his area of expertise. He knew Orion would have him killed when he retired.”

“Seems like a good idea to me. When do I get to retire?” John snorted.

Tehya chuckled as she stepped back from Bailey.

“Last I heard, most handlers call rather than visit in person,” Bailey pointed out as she moved to the coffeepot. “When did that rule change?”

“A good handler knows when to call and when to visit.” Tehya shrugged her almost fragile shoulders. “Some information you don’t want tracked over open phone lines, and even secure connections can be hacked.”

That was no more than the truth.

“What was so important that you were forced to make the journey from England, then?”

Bailey timed the question perfectly. Turning, she caught Tehya’s surprised look and the flare of suspicion in John’s gaze.

Hiding her smile behind the coffee cup as she sipped at the fragrant brew, she let the knowledge that she had her own sources sink in.

“How did you find me?” Tehya seemed more curious than upset. “Better agents than you have searched for me.”

“You were in Atlanta as well,” Bailey stated. “Along with Jerric Abbas and Travis Caine. Once I tied you to all three men it wasn’t hard to connect the dots and find you. You should be more careful.”

“No doubt,” Tehya murmured quietly.

No doubt. Bailey could sense the growing curiosity inside the other woman. It wouldn’t be every day that she was tracked so easily. It was simply that Bailey had a driving reason to track the woman. The more she knew about the men she was tracking at the time, the better off she was. And sensing that Micah Sloane was her missing cousin had only given her added incentive.

She noticed the look Tehya and John exchanged then: Bailey shouldn’t have been able to track her. Tehya was actually
hidden very well, and pulling out background on the woman was like pulling teeth.

“So tell me, how did you track me to England?” Tehya asked bluntly. “You shouldn’t have been able to.”

“It wasn’t that hard.” Bailey moved to the breakfast table and the bagels and spreads her housekeeper had laid out for breakfast. “Residents of the village you call home recognize you. It’s where you go when you leave there that I’ve had trouble following.”

“Well, as least some secrets are still safe,” Tehya quipped. “You’re dangerously good, Ms. Serborne.”

“She’s dangerous, period, to herself,” John grunted as he collected his own cup and moved back to the coffeepot. “What the hell were you doing tracking my handler?”

“At the time, I really had no idea she was your handler. She was tied to three men I was investigating; the connection points made her easier to trace.” Bailey narrowed her eyes on the other woman again. The more she interacted with her now, the more familiar Tehya seemed. There was something about the way she held her head—her almost instinctive attempt to hide her face behind the veil of her hair, or by staying in profile—that piqued Bailey’s memories. She just couldn’t place it.

“We’ll have to discuss that later, John,” Tehya warned him.

John nodded sharply, and Bailey could almost see his concern. Whoever led the team he was a part of wouldn’t be pleased with this information.

“So why is she here?” Bailey asked again.

Tehya slid into a chair at the table, crossed her jean-clad legs, and stared back at Bailey with a grin as John sat down in the chair between the two of them.

“It was business,” Tehya sighed mockingly. “As a broker, John Vincent is in high demand. Fortunately, he’s rather picky about the jobs he takes.”

“Is he really?” Bailey glanced over at him.

He was leaning back in his chair watching both of them with a slightly worried expression. Now, why would he be
worried? Unless he knew as well as she did that eventually Tehya’s identity would come to her.

Bailey was drawing some amazing conclusions since Atlanta, since realizing her cousin was a part of the team John worked with.

If she wasn’t mistaken, if her memory wasn’t faulty, and it normally wasn’t, then she was betting Tehya was just as “dead” as Micah. Perhaps just as “dead” as Trent.

“He is.” Tehya nodded, obviously biting back a laugh even as she kept her voice low. “In this case, I felt it was in his best interests that I come to Aspen in case I was needed during the transaction.”

John shook his head. “What Tehya is beating around the bush about here is the fact that Warbucks has made contact again. He seems rather interested in the fact that we’re an item now. He contacted Tehya with a message that he’s rather enjoying the fact that I’ve taken such initiative.”

“He’s also rather confident of the fact that you’ll choose John over the others as well. He wanted to warn John that there would be no negotiation in terms of his payment, despite your relationship.”

“I take a straight fifteen percent per sale.” John shrugged. “I’m not willing to go lower. It’s not worth my time otherwise.”

Tehya shook her head. “Jerric Abbas is willing to go fourteen percent.”

“Jerric doesn’t have the connections I have, nor does he have the negotiating power.” John grinned as Bailey barely kept from rolling her eyes at the mention of the other man’s name.

“Jerric hasn’t been in the brokerage game long enough to develop a name for himself outside his security abilities,” Bailey stated. “He’s a terrorist, and that’s what he’s known for, not his brokerage background.”