INTO DANGER (Secret Assassins (S.A.S.S.) Book 1) (23 page)

Steve jerked up sharply, a ready denial on his lips, but the gray eyes studying him across the table stopped the words. He remained silent, waiting for the rest of the information.

Again she nodded in approval, as if he’d passed another test. “We’ve always known there are moles in the CIA, and TIARA leaks enough information that makes it very probable that there is an inside as well as an outside entity working. Why do you think the admiral transferred you there? He wanted someone he could trust in TIARA to report back to him. You obviously have his confidence, Steve.”

“How do you know all this?” Hell, he’d just found this out himself. How did this woman know so much?

Tess wiped her hands with some napkins. Steve noticed that she had on different rings today. “I called the admiral last night to confirm my findings, of course,” she answered, her gray eyes twinkling.

“Oh yeah, right. You just picked up the phone and informed his secretary that you’re Tess Montgomery with GEM and you have a few questions to ask him,” Steve said dryly.

Tess’s lips quirked. “I did, but I also used your name.” Leaning closer, she added, “I also have his private line, so no secretary.”

Steve met those amused eyes with his own incredulous ones. “Who are you?” He made a mental note to call his cousin Hawk and ask about GEM. Contract operatives just didn’t have a direct line to top Pentagon brass.

“You can call the admiral and confirm my conversation with him, if you like,” she offered, “and get permission to finish this whole operation.”

Steve frowned. “You mean I’m back in the game?”

Tess nodded. “If you want, but this time you’ll be on your own, with us. Your main objective is to follow Marlena, make sure she’s okay, then let them take her prisoner.”

Steve shook his head. “No, I won’t let her be taken prisoner without me.”

Tess’s eyes narrowed. “It’s her job, Steve,” she reminded, her voice deceptively gentle. “She has to find out who is behind the sale.”

“And let’s say she does, and she’s still a prisoner, what then?”

“Once we find out who the man is, we’ll decide what to do with him.”

“What about Marlena? How does she get out, if she’s in danger? If there is a leak, she’s probably walking into a trap.” The thought of it made his blood run cold.

“It’s the risk we all take. She understands the probabilities of the situation.”

“No.” Steve shook his head again. This time he wouldn’t just stand around. “If I’m in, I do it with her. If I’m to follow her, I follow her into danger all the way.”

“And how do you propose to do that?”

“Simple. I get caught.” He looked straight at Tess, determined to have his plan taken seriously. “The probabilities for keeping Marlena safe just went up.”

He had expected protests, but then Tess wasn’t exactly a predictable woman. She sipped her drink. It took a second before he realized she was trying not to smile. Somehow he’d been manipulated again, to do exactly what...he wanted. He stared stonily back at her.

“A good plan,” Tess agreed, “and I’ll allow it on two conditions. One, you aren’t allowed to report anything back to Harden or your Task Force Two team.”

“Why not?”

“Well, first of all you’re off this case, as far as Harden is concerned. Then there are the leaks, remember? Besides, Harden will go by the book and storm in to get his man.” Tess’ expression became harder. “We don’t want that yet. Our objective goes a lot further than clogging up a leak temporarily, Agent McMillan. Do you understand?”

Sure he did. They wanted to see the whole mole organization fall apart, which was all right by him. If there was indeed someone betraying the agency from the inside, and if catching him was the admiral’s objective in the first place, he wouldn’t be working against his team. He realized with sudden clarity that he would be working on Marlena’s side, too. Which made it more than all right.

Tess was waiting for his answer, that small smile still playing on her lips. “Unless, of course, you don’t want to be...um...Marlena’s partner?”

Steve couldn’t help but smile back. “Did I tell you that you don’t lack in the brain department, either? What’s the second condition?”

Tess laughed. “You’re perfect for our kind of work, Agent McMillan. We’ll get you some tools to put on, set you up so that Marlena will know you have my approval, and then we’re ready to go over the details.”

“Please don’t say I have to dye my hair,” Steve countered in mock horror.

“No, but you’re going to be wearing an earring.”

“What? No way.” He shook his head. No fucking way.

***

D
anger had different smells and sounds. This time it had the scent of plush leather seats in a quietly droning car. Expensive cologne. Very quiet commands.

Marlena let the sounds and smells drift over her, getting ready for the confrontation. She must remain in control no matter what surprises the enemy sprang on her. One little mistake could be her undoing.

Hands led Marlena up some steps. She listened for clues. A house, maybe. It smelled of a house, not a hotel room. The floors were tiled. Her boots clacked as she walked carefully, guided up more steps. Then her heels sank into deep carpet. She caught the scent of fresh flowers. She heard a door closing.

“You may take off the blindfold, Miss Maxwell.”

She did. Oh-oh. She was in a bedroom. A familiar-looking place she shouldn’t be in. Calmly she looked at the man sitting on the bed.

“I don’t see the need to waste my whole day just to bring me here,” she said, folding her arms. “You could have just given me the address.”

It was, after all, du Scheum’s bedroom. The man on his bed, however, wasn’t Pierre.

All day, while following the instructions in the special delivery package, she’d had the feeling she was being watched. The walk down the Vietnam Memorial trail to the Washington Monument. The little tour given by the ATF agent. Walking in and out of the Pentagon. By afternoon her scheduled stop was at the Naval Research Laboratory at the edge of D.C. She walked through the specific areas inside the facility, a vast research base for technological development of maritime applications. All very interesting choices of places.

Then, following the map, she went out the other exit, and two men had approached her and very politely asked her to follow along sans her yellow sportster. They were armed, too, of course, their weapons protruding threateningly under their jackets.

Why the elaborate, roundabout way to meet? She didn’t think it was just to show her D.C.’s historic and tourist sites. She started to go over all the details.

His choice of meeting place was also telling. The man was ego-driven, needing to prove something to her. He looked familiar. Mid-forties, almost nondescript in appearance. Sandy hair, brown eyes, too pale to be an outdoorsman. In fact he was gaunt-looking, with shadows under his deep-set eyes, as if he spent too much time staring at screens. Except for his eyes.

Despite his deceptively mild looks, his eyes had a malevolent glitter in them. Marlena was sure they’d met several times before, but how was it she couldn’t remember him, especially with those eyes? Not an important player, she decided. With those looks, he easily receded into the background if he chose. He was waiting for some reaction from her.

Everything he had done so far was calculated. Showing her the city meant something. Blindfolding her. Being here of all places, in du Scheum’s bedroom.

“You seem to be good friends with Pierre.” She eyed her surroundings in reference.

“Ob-obviously n-not as well as you, my dear, since y-you recognize his bedroom.” He spoke with a slight stutter, but he didn’t seem nervous. “Aren’t you going to ask me why I p-picked this place for our meeting?”

Marlena shrugged. “I’m here. I expect you’ll tell me before I leave.”

His eyes narrowed as he leaned back against the richly embroidered pillows. “And wh-what if I am not allowing you to leave?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You hired me to negotiate a sale for you with my business contacts. Are you saying you don’t have anything for me?” She lowered her voice. “I don’t take kindly to having my time wasted.” She suddenly recalled his name as she continued studying him. His eyes. Every time they had met, he wore tinted glasses. That was why he looked so odd. She added, “Nor do I think Pierre would want to see you in his bedroom, Mr. Cunningham, isn’t it?”

“You remembered!” He sounded pleased. “I wasn’t sure whether you would. You barely paid attention whenever we shook hands.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”

“Won’t you sit down? Or would you pr-prefer to join me here, on this bed?”

Marlena shook her head. Why did villains always act in such a cliché manner? So she answered with a boring cliché. “I never mix business with pleasure.”

“In that case you wouldn’t mind if I b-bring in our prisoner, would you?”

The door opened again, and this time Marlena blinked. There was Stash, with a man standing behind him, prodding him into the room. Her heart skipped a beat, then started to dance a quick staccato. It hadn’t been that long, but just the sight of him made her catch her breath.

She hadn’t expected to see him again. And certainly hadn’t expected the surge of happiness that burst forth from somewhere inside. How could a man make a room smaller by merely standing in it? Her eyes hungrily took in his appearance.

Although his hands appeared tied behind his back, a quick all-over scan showed he wasn’t injured. He looked so good in a black bomber jacket and black jeans. He was even wearing black cowboy boots. She was in the middle of a dangerous assignment and all she wanted to do was run to him and kiss him hard on those sensual lips. His dark eyes met hers across the room, and to her disgust he grinned, a wolfish slash of a smile. She sighed. That was all she needed. Complications.

“Nothing to say?” Cunningham mocked. “Is this man your pl-pleasure or your business, Marlena? You have to decide.”

“How did you get him into this?” she asked, putting on a disinterested expression.

“He was following you all day, so I thought I would bring him to you. You’re the expert here—didn’t you know you were being followed?”

Of course she did, but she’d thought it was Tess or the men after her. Certainly not Stash. He grinned devilishly, as if daring her to admit she was happy to see him. “People follow me all the time. That doesn’t mean you have to capture them for me, Cunningham.”

“Please, call me William.”

Marlena wanted to call him something else, but right now she had to think quickly. This man was more dangerous than she’d thought. She turned her back to Steve and focused all her attention on William Cunningham.

“Okay, let’s deal,” she said.

Smiling, Cunningham laced his hands behind his head. “We have time. Your old lover won’t be here for a while yet, if you’re worried about interruption.” His smile widened. “Ahhh, I see your b-boy toy here didn’t like to hear about your past with du Scheum.”

Marlena chose not to deny anything. She especially didn’t want to glance Steve’s way. “My past has nothing to do with our agreement.”

Stash was a SEAL operative. He couldn’t be captured that easily, so he must be there because he wanted to be. But first she needed time to gauge this man who had hired her for an exclusive sale.

She walked away from the bed, heading for the brocade love seats in the corner of the luxurious room. Sinking down into one of them, she sat with booted leg lounging nonchalantly over one arm, giving a picture of lazy indolence. She fingered the tassels on the small pillow by her. “Okay, I’m finally here, and all you have for me is a man. Anything else?”

Cunningham laughed and got off the bed. “You know, I really do like your style, Marlena. It’s the f-first thing that drew me to you when I was looking around for someone to help me.” He nodded at his man standing behind Steve. The man gave Steve a slight push toward Marlena. “Do you know why I chose you?”

Marlena answered in a bored rhetorical drawl, “No, why don’t you tell me.”

“A drink first, perhaps? Whiskey, wasn’t it? I assure you I can make it b-better than your lackey.”

The comment made her dart a quick look at Steve, who so far had remained silent. His eyes were alert, so he wasn’t drugged or anything. He didn’t react to the reference to the first night in her apartment, when he’d attempted to make a drink for her. What was he thinking? She had never seen him docile, so she knew he was up to something.

Accepting the glass from William, she calculated the possibility of it being poisoned or drugged. But her dead body in Pierre du Scheum’s house wouldn’t be any good to William Cunningham at the moment. He still needed her to achieve his ends.

“It’s not drugged,” Cunningham told her, with a knowing gleam in his eyes. They clinked glasses. “To business, then pl-pleasure.”

Marlena sipped, then glanced in Steve’s direction again. Better try to find out what was going on with him. She crooked her brow inquiringly. “Can’t live without me, can you, Stash?”

Cunningham interrupted before Steve could answer. “He obviously doesn’t trust you, my dear.”

“Oh?”

“Look at this and decide.”

The older man snapped his fingers, and another assistant came in with a briefcase. Cunningham set it on the coffee table.

“First, let me make a formal introduction, my dear. I’m one of Pierre du Scheum’s associates in a s-subsidiary within du Scheum Industries. I head the department that does research with the government, some of which is highly sensitive.” He pulled out a folder. “In fact, I make sen-sensitive information my business.”

A boast. She could use that weakness.

Marlena took the file he proffered and leafed through it. She glanced back up at Steve, careful not to betray any emotions. His expression offered no clues about his feelings, either. How had Cunningham gotten hold of a report that was prepared by Stash?

Better attack before she was cornered. Carelessly flipping the folder back on the coffee table, she leaned back and took a swallow from her whiskey. “So what if I’m not the real Marlena? I’ve been doing well the last two years, haven’t I?” She smiled challengingly at Cunningham. “Besides, I think I look better than the original Marlena, don’t you agree? Those old faded photos the CIA boys took of her from her Berlin days were horrible.”