Her Secret Agent Man (6 page)

As if he’d just realized he’d given away too much, he looked off quickly. His phenomenal self-control slammed back into place.

The salads arrived and he commented calmly, as if that raw, revealing exchange hadn’t just happened, “So. What have you been up to for the last ten years?”

“Not much. Just running the financial end of a global crime empire,” she replied with light bitterness. “It has been a real picnic, let me tell you.”

His gaze snapped to hers, his blue eyes blazing in fury for a moment before he clamped down on the reaction. What a pair they made, circling around each other like a couple of prize-fighters, each one waiting for an opening to land the knockout punch.

“Tell me about it,” he said quietly.

Right. Like he cared about just how hellish it had really been. The constant danger of discovery, the fear of being murdered by her father’s enemies, her anguish over the innocents who were hurt or killed every day by her father’s actions and, indirectly, hers. Nobody could understand how she was as much a victim as the people her father killed. They saw her living in a big house with servants and luxury all around her and didn’t see it for the beautiful, deadly cage it was. They didn’t know about the blackmail, the constant, subtle threats to kill Carina, her beloved Carina.

No, Dutch wouldn’t understand. She dug into her salad of baby greens. “How about we enjoy this amazing food and talk about serious things later?”

He nodded briskly and then picked up his water glass. “A toast. To good snow, fine food and beautiful women.”

Her face went inexplicably warm as she picked up her glass. Sheesh. It wasn’t as if nobody’d ever told her she was beautiful before. Except it mattered when this man said it. She
wanted
him to think she was pretty.

Their glasses touched with a musical chime, and their gazes touched over the sparkling crystal. A hot spark leaped
in his eyes and in an instant raised the temperature in the room about twenty degrees. She was too mesmerized to tear her gaze away. For a moment, they were back in the jungle, dark and dangerous, and the beautiful and brave American soldier who’d stolen her heart was coming to meet her. Her heart pounded and the old anticipation filled her.

Ah, to be that young and innocent again. To still have hope that a man like him could fall in love with her and sweep her away to a new life of safety and joy.

The restaurant came back into focus around her. But Dutch’s gaze never wavered. The intensity of those azure eyes hadn’t changed one bit in the last ten years.

She sighed. As much as she wanted this man, she couldn’t have him. Their past had already doomed them. She tore her gaze away and blindly cut into her salad.

“So,” he said painfully politely, “tell me about your hobbies.”

And just like that he bottled up all that sizzling sexual attraction. She’d give her right arm to know how he did it. But at the same time, a kernel of pity for him formed deep in her heart. What must it be like living that way, always shut off from his feelings, isolated from the rest of the human race?

True to his word, Dutch steered their conversation strictly to inconsequential subjects. Nonetheless, he had interesting opinions and observations on everything from Cuban art to international lending practices. His raw intelligence and body of knowledge reached the point of being downright frightening. How was she ever going to outsmart or outmaneuver this man?

As she savored a scrumptious crème brûlée to top off the spectacular meal, he murmured, “It’s later.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You said we’d talk about serious things later.”

She stared down at the crisp, golden layer of caramelized sugar coating her custard. Composure. Breathe. Living with her father for so long had taught her how to lie convincingly. She could do this.

“What do you want to know?” she managed to ask.

“What are you hiding from me?”

Well, obviously, she thought, I’m not going to tell you every detail of my life. Just as you’re not going to tell me every detail of yours. “I’m not keeping anything from you that will affect our deal. I swear. You keep me alive, and I’ll give you my father’s financial records.”

“Why haven’t you handed over the records to me already?”

“Because I have to get them first,” she lied.

“Where are they now?”

“I uploaded them onto a secure Internet site. I have to retrieve them.”

“So all you need is access to an Internet-capable computer and we’re finished?”

She gulped. “It’s not quite that simple. They’re hidden behind several layers of encryption. I can break through it, but it’ll take a little while.”

“Define a little while. Are we talking a couple of days, or are we talking weeks?”

She looked him square in the eye. That was one she could answer with total honesty. “I don’t know. I wish I did.”

He leaned back, studying her with laser intensity. She had the distinct feeling he wasn’t buying her line for a second. But she had to play out this farce. And in his own way, so did he.

“Where have you lived all this time?” he fired at her.

“Gavarone. I travel some in the course of managing Eduardo’s money, but mostly he keeps me close by.”

“Wants to keep an eye on you, does he?”

She snorted. “More like an iron fist over my head.”

Dutch said nothing in response to that one.

The silence deepened as she waited for him to cook up some other horribly awkward question. Her father always said the best defense was a good offense. Maybe it was time to borrow a page out of Eduardo’s book. She leaned forward and fired off a question of her own. “So. What have you been up to for the last ten years?”

Dutch’s frown deepened. He shrugged enigmatically. “The same old thing. Doing my damnedest to keep the world safe for democracy.”

She remarked, “That’s become quite a tall order in the last decade.”

“If it’s not one thing, it’s another,” he replied. “My kind aren’t ever going to be out of work.”

The conversation lapsed. She ought to keep him talking. Keep him distracted. But she was so relieved to escape the charge of the conversation, she didn’t push.

The tension between them must have been thicker than she realized, because she noticed a guy several tables over looking at them. As soon as she made eye contact with him, he jerked his gaze to his plate. Creepy kind of fellow. So boringly plain and brown he practically faded into the background and became invisible. Eating alone.

She murmured to Dutch in quiet concern, “A guy over there was just looking at me.”

Dutch’s lips curved in a wry smile. “I expect most of the men in this restaurant have been looking at you. You’re a beautiful woman.”

Flustered by the comment, she made a production of folding her napkin beside her plate.

Dutch said under his breath, “Let’s get out of here. I’ll have a look at the guy on the way out.”

He paid for the meal with a credit card, and she eyed it
speculatively. A person could access a bank account via plastic, too. She ought to check his wallet for debit cards. She might be able to trace the Charlie Squad account number from one of them.

Dutch ushered her outside. Night had fallen while they ate. How in the world were they supposed to ski back to the resort up that narrow, dark trail? But Dutch set off confidently, leaving her to follow dubiously. He didn’t take the same trail they’d used before. Although as narrow as the last one, this trail sloped downhill away from the restaurant.

Initially, the trail passed across reasonably open terrain and she could see the path in the moonlight. But then flanking walls of black pines closed in, casting the trail into pitch darkness. Her right foot lurched. She flailed but managed to maintain her balance. Her ski had caught on something and her binding yanked loose, separating her boot from her ski.

She called out to Dutch, who was pulling away from her rapidly, “Wait! I popped a binding.”

Dutch turned around and muscled his way back up the incline toward her. “Can you step back into it yourself?”

“Tried already. There’s something wedged in the bottom of my boot and I can’t knock it loose.”

“Hang on.” He made his way to her side and leaned down, touching her leg just above her knee. She jumped at the uncanny familiarity. His big palm slid down her leg and cupped her calf. “Use my shoulder to steady yourself,” he murmured.

He pried loose a piece of broken tree branch and guided her boot back into her ski. The binding closed with a solid click. He started to stand up but froze halfway to his feet. Abrupt tension flowed through him under her hand. She froze as well. He eased by slow degrees the rest of the way to vertical. Silence settled around them in a dim, fluffy blanket of black on white. And then something else. The sound that
must have made Dutch freeze in his tracks. A sound of something slick, synthetic, rubbing on branches. Like a nylon ski jacket.

Dutch’s powerful arm swept around her waist, and he tipped her over, half burying her in a deep snowbank. A light dusting of crystalline snow showered down upon her.

She shook her head to clear the snow off her face and Dutch’s hand clapped over her jaw, halting the movement. His arm lay over her chest, and his body half covered hers. Warm breath touched her ear, and she felt the snow there melt against her skin. She lay in the embrace of the snow and the man, paralyzed by the heat inside her and the cold without.

A chill began to seep through her clothing, the deep painful kind that went straight to her bones. She did her best to suppress the shivering that set in, but her body had other ideas. She shook like a leaf beneath Dutch and found herself abruptly grateful for his weight pressing down upon her, holding her still.

And then she heard another swishing noise. This time from skis cautiously sliding across snow. If it was possible, Dutch went even more still. She held her breath and made like a tree. A nice, warm one that didn’t shiver.

Swish, swish…

Her entire being hummed with terror as the noise passed by them, not more than a dozen feet away. Dutch eased away from her and looked down. His intense gaze met hers. He didn’t have to say anything aloud. She was to stay quiet, follow his instructions and not do anything foolish. He nodded fractionally and then stood up slowly as complete silence descended upon them again. He stood there for a long time before he finally held a hand down to her.

She was numb with cold and fear as he pulled her to her feet. Who had that been? Just another tourist making his way
back to the resort after supper, or someone more sinister? Her gut said it was the latter. Dutch’s gut must have told him the same thing, because his jaw all but rippled with tension.

“Let’s go,” he breathed in her ear. “We’re going to give this guy a head start to get well away from us. When we go, we’ll move quickly and quietly. No talking. Keep up with me or stay as close as you can. If we get separated, I’ll meet you at my car in the parking lot. Don’t go back to our chalet by yourself. Got all that?”

“Yes.” And then she asked the question burning a hole in her tongue. “Did you see who that was?”

His terse answer chilled her worse than any snowbank ever could. “That was your admirer from the restaurant. If I had to guess, that’s one of Eduardo’s men.”

J
ulia staggered and might have fallen if Dutch’s arm hadn’t gone around her. As he pulled her close to his side, she shuddered against his solid warmth. She didn’t know how long she stood there, absorbing his body heat and silent reassurance.

“Talk to me.” His voice was low and urgent against her temple. “Who was that guy?”

“I’ve never seen him before. He’s not one of my father’s regulars,” she answered into his chest.

“Tell me what you know about these jokers so I know what I’m up against here,” he urged.

“I can tell you this much. The only contract guys my father hires to do his dirty work are the very best money can buy.”

Dutch’s gaze bored into her, measuring the truth of her words. “Give me the financial information now. I’ll call in the authorities and we’ll take your father down. Then we can nab this guy and call him and his team off.”

She whispered, “It’s not that simple—” Her voice broke.

He gazed at her in entreaty. “I swear, I can help you if you’ll let me.”

How was she supposed to answer that? He’d already declared his intention to hurt her the same way she’d hurt him. She
could not
tell him about Carina’s situation. She stared back at him wordlessly, watching in dismay as his compassion slowly changed to frustration.

“I want to help you, Julia, but I can’t if you won’t let me.”

His disappointment rolled over her, too much after the emotional drain of the last few weeks, not to mention the last few minutes. She didn’t have the strength to fight him. Nor did she want to. Gazing up at him, she absorbed his terrible tension into herself. Long seconds ticked by. Ever so gradually, the rigidity in his shoulders eased and the flat line of his mouth relaxed.

He finally asked, his voice low and pained, “Are you afraid of me?”

“Should I be?” she whispered.

He stripped off his gloves and his bare hands came to rest on her neck. She shuddered at her vulnerability as he cupped her neck in his powerful grip. His fingertips trailed lightly over her skin to her nape, and his thumbs pressed lightly under her chin, tilting her face up. She fought an urge to let her eyes drift closed and simply accept the caress or the strangling to come. She stared up into the fathomless darkness of his gaze as he battled some private demon.

“You’re trembling,” he finally murmured. He was so close his breath felt warm against her lips. And then his mouth touched hers. Lightly. Again, with a little more authority. And then he was really kissing her, his mouth moving across hers with a finesse that was almost reverent. Her knees melted into jelly, and her hands came up to cling to his broad shoulders as his arms swept around her.

The last ten years melted away in an instant, leaving her feelings as raw and vulnerable as they’d ever been where this man was concerned. Faint echoes of a jungle pressing in around them, all sound and steam heat, rang in her ears.

She moaned low in the back of her throat as he dragged her up against him. The heat of his body seared her, even through their ski clothing. His head slanted and she met him halfway, seeking and finding the best angle to meet his tongue with hers, to devour him as voraciously as he devoured her.

His hands roamed up and down her back and her entire being vibrated with the need to get closer to him. She surged against him, and one of his hands slid under her hair to the back of her head. The other slid lower, cupping her buttocks, lifting and tucking her snugly against him. Were it not for the heavy ski boots she wore, she’d have wrapped one of her legs around his waist, so great was her instinct to feel the hard length of him against her feminine softness.

His tongue plunged inside her mouth and she ran her tongue around his, sparring with him to see who could eat the other alive first. The short hairs at the back of his neck slid under her fingers, and the solid muscles there corded with tension.

And so it was that she felt the moment that his rampant lust shifted into reluctant self-control. No! She wanted more of him! Reluctantly, she forced herself not to cling as he eased back from the embrace. His kisses lightened and then retreated completely, and somehow she found the strength to let him go. It was one of the hardest things she’d ever done.

He stroked her cheek lightly with his thumb. His brooding gaze captured hers in the scant light. He stared at her for a long, pensive moment.

“Maybe you
should
be afraid of me, Julia.”

A shiver snaked down her spine. Maybe she should, indeed.

Holy hell and damnation. What had he been thinking to kiss her like that? He was
not
some raw recruit who let his crotch compromise missions.

Of course, Julia was doing her damnedest to compromise this mission all on her own. What was it going to take for her to give him the information he needed to unravel what the hell was going on? He could smell the currents flowing around her like smoke, but he couldn’t
see
them.

Her soulfully delivered story of the last decade was all well and good, but she was leaving out all the important parts. Why did she still refuse to trust him? He’d been steadily taking care of her, setting aside the past and protecting her just as he’d said he would. What more did she want from him before she started helping him?

He realized he was skiing aggressively, shooting down the trail with reckless abandon. He slowed so he wouldn’t lose her completely. But when he emerged onto the main trail, she was right behind him. Hell of a skier. Either that or she didn’t give a damn if she broke her neck.

She’d told the truth about one thing though. The guys trailing them were pros. How in the hell they’d even found this place, let alone figured out he and Julie were here, baffled him. The United States was such a transparent country it was damn hard to hide for any period of time. But twenty-four hours? How had Ferrare’s men tracked them down so quickly?

Was there a radio tracker in her personal possessions? It would explain a lot. He’d have to check when they got back to the hotel. Surely his gear was still clean. They couldn’t have connected him to her. Unless—

He completed the thought reluctantly. Bitterly. Unless she was setting him up again.

He swore under his breath. He’d always scorned men who let beautiful women turn their heads and wreck their lives, but damned if his neck didn’t feel twisted around like a corkscrew right about now. He was a fool, and that’s all there was to it.

Usually he was the master of knowing when to cut his losses, of knowing how to bend without breaking, of giving up the small defeat now in favor of the greater victory later. But this situation with Julia completely stumped him.

Near the bottom of the mountain, they skied into the lights from the night run at the resort. He let his speed build, burning off a fraction of the rage and lust pounding through him. That kiss had been one for the record books. How could any guy not want more where that came from? He was only human, after all. Looked like another cold shower in store for him tonight.

He headed for the dark side of the main lodge, and made Julia lurk in the shadows with him for nearly half an hour before he was satisfied it was safe to approach their chalet. Either her goons weren’t around, or—scary thought—they were better than he was.

He rushed her inside and tore through all her gear after a hurried apology for what he had to do. Once he told her what he was looking for, she stood by without complaint and let him have at her things. The underwear and lingerie brought unexpected heat to his face. But he gritted his teeth and made it through the exercise without dying of embarrassment.

“All clean,” he announced a couple of minutes later.

“Thank God,” she murmured.

“Time to get out of here,” he announced.

To her credit, she didn’t utter a single syllable of complaint. She just sucked it up and repacked her things in about five minutes. Another five to wipe the place down for fingerprints,
and two more to call the owners, thank them for their hospitality, and let them know about their abrupt departure.

Dutch scouted around outside while she waited in the dark for long minutes. Finally, he motioned her to join him outside. He tossed her bags in the back of his SUV but conspicuously left his on the ground. Time to call her bluff.

Julia stared at Dutch dubiously.
Now
what was he up to? He held out his hand and she looked down at it. His car keys lay in his palm.

“You want me to drive?” she asked in confusion.

“No. I’m giving you a chance to run. You’ve been itching to get away from me, and I’m going to let you go.”

Her gaze snapped up to his. He was letting her go? Why? And why was her stomach sinking in dismay and not soaring in elation?

He forged on grimly. “You could’ve left me lying on the floor when I hit my head, but you didn’t. You stayed and took the time and risk to make sure I was okay. I owe you one.” He jingled the keys lightly. “Go on. Take them.”

Her hand moved toward the keys. Then fell back to her side. She looked up at him regretfully. “I don’t want to leave you. I feel safe when I’m with you. I
am
safe when I’m with you. If only you’d—”

He jumped all over that one. “If only I’d what?”

She winced. “If only you’d promise to give me some time. I won’t take any more than I need. I swear.”

“How long do you need?”

“I have to stay alive until—” She broke off, horrified at what she’d almost blurted out.

“Until what?” he asked urgently.

“I’m sorry, Dutch. I can’t. It doesn’t involve you.”

He ground out, “Look. I’ve been busting my butt to keep
you safe. Everything about you is my business right now. If you can’t give me the answers I need, then I can’t do my job. You and I are finished.”

Her gaze snapped to his. That meant he was free to follow through on his promise to kill her. Not yet! Carina wasn’t free!

He had her between a rock and a hard place, and they both knew it. She sighed. “Okay. Fine. I’ll tell you more. But not here. Not now. We’re standing out in the open with my father’s men poking around very nearby. Let’s get somewhere safe and then we can talk.”

Thankfully, he didn’t split hairs over her choice of words. She hadn’t promised to tell him everything. Just more. That left her a lot of wiggle room.

“Please,” she pleaded.

He stared at her for a long time. Finally, he answered heavily, “What you’re asking of me goes against my better judgment.”

She retorted desperately, “I’m
asking
you to save my life. And I’m offering to hand you my father. None of that has changed.”

Another long pause. A sigh. “All right. You can have some time.”

Thank God.
Without thinking about what she was doing, she flung herself against him with all the abject relief of a death-row inmate who’d been given a last-minute reprieve. He caught her in his arms and held her close, sheltering her with his strength the way he always did.

“But you have to promise me something, too,” he murmured against her temple.

“What’s that?”

“You won’t try to run away from me again.”

She’d be crazy to run from the one person who could keep her safe. Even if he did pose a real threat to her safety when
this was all over. What a choice. Probable death now without him, certain death later with him. She mulled over the idea for a moment. Ultimately, she’d rather face Dutch’s wrath than her father’s hired killers.

Although his condition did raise the question of why exactly it was so important to him that she not leave him. Was there more going on in his heart than met the eye? Did he still harbor feelings for her? Interesting. All the more reason to stay. She answered solemnly, “I promise. I won’t try to run away.”

He wrapped her tightly in his arms, burying his face in her hair for an instant. So fast she wasn’t entirely sure he’d done it.

He murmured, “We probably ought to get going.”

She sighed and let go of him reluctantly.

With a last, reassuring squeeze, he let her go and unlocked the passenger door, holding it for her as she climbed in. He climbed into the driver’s seat and put the key in the ignition, but he paused before starting the car.

He looked over at her grimly. “Last chance to leave me, Julia. Once we go to ground, we stay together until this thing is over.”

She gave him a grim look of her own and nodded her understanding. “Let’s do it.”

Dutch drove south for a couple of hours, stopping at the first decent-size hotel they came to in Durango, in southern Colorado. He checked in quickly and parked around back. His need to hide her from her pursuers was overpowering. It went far beyond professional concern.
And that was a problem.

Somewhere along the way tonight, he’d come to a realization. He didn’t feel nearly the burning need to kill Julia that he had a scant twenty-four hours ago. He still wanted to get
justice for his brother, of course, but he had set aside his wrath for now. Just for now, he assured himself.

He hustled her through the door to their room, breathing a sigh of relief when its darkness enveloped them. He felt her move beside him and caught her hand in midair as she reached for the light switch. For caution’s sake, he pushed her down into a crouch by the door, and in the scant light creeping through the curtains, signaled her to stay put. She nodded fearfully, and he reached for his gun.

Bending over at the waist, he raced silently across the room and plastered himself beside the bathroom door. Crouching, he spun into the room, pistol first. Quick scan. No targets. Same treatment to the tiny closet. All clear.

He stowed his pistol and flipped on the lights. In the spill of yellow, Julia looked like a scared rabbit huddled shivering by the door. He strode over to her, picked her up, coat and all, and carried her to the couch. He sat down with her in his lap.

She felt like an ice cube and was shaking like a leaf. He held her close for a long time, gifting her with his heat until her trembling subsided. But then he made a tactical mistake. He buried his nose in her silky hair, inhaling the spicy scent of her until the fantasy spinning out in his head made it all but impossible to sit still beneath her. Business, dammit! It was an act of sheer will to drag his mind back to the situation at hand.