On the Job (8 page)

“I'm not going anywhere, either, Madeline. Never again,” he assured her next to her trembling lips before he began the process of staking his claim yet again.

M
adeline awoke at four thirty in the morning. She inhaled and snuggled closer to Walker. The air was redolent with sex. Madeline smiled as she recalled their soulful, electric lovemaking. They'd spoken quietly to each other in the interims, laughing as they recalled old treasured memories—Madeline being sprayed by a surprised skunk when Billy took them camping at Crater Lake, attending the black-tie Christmas party Tony's parents threw every year, Madeline whispering frequent reassurances to an uncomfortable, out-of-place-feeling Walker . . .

. . . their first kiss at the old Stateline Fire Lookout.

Walker stirred in his sleep and clasped her tighter. She rubbed her cheek against his chest, loving the sensation of power gloved in smooth, thick skin. He was so beautiful to her, with his narrow hips, lean torso and broad shoulders, all sleek and golden, with a walk that was sin in motion and just a tad predatory.

She kissed a flat nipple. She couldn't see in the dark, but she knew it was copper-colored and came to attention whenever she played with it. Like now.

“Again, beautiful?”

She laughed when she heard his muffled, groggy voice.

“No. I don't think even you are that good.”

“Oh, I'm more than good enough,” he mumbled. She could hear the smile in his voice. He moved his hand and cupped her tender outer sex. “At the very least, eager and willing. I was thinking more along the lines of how sore you must be.”

“I was actually thinking we should get back to the lodge,” she said regretfully. “Tony would have a fit if he found out I was missing.”

He went still. It was the first time the topic of Tony had come up during their stolen night.

“I'll talk to Tony, Walker. About us. I wanted to tell you something in the boathouse. Tony and I aren't engaged.”

His head came up like a hound catching the scent. “You're not?”

She shook her head and did her best to describe Tony's and her unconventional relationship, sensing his tight focus on her the entire time. “Something Tony said last night makes me think he suspects something is going on between us, anyway,” she said at the end of her explanation.

“Really?”

Madeline nodded, her cheek brushing against a smooth, dense pectoral muscle. Walker touched the back of her head, and she looked up in the direction of his face.

“Let me tell Tony,” he said. “I'll do it sometime later today.”

“We'll do it together,” she whispered.

He hesitated, but then he nodded. She kissed his chest and scurried out of the bed regretfully. “I'm going to take a quick shower. Do you have anything I could put on?”

He laughed and she smiled. She'd forgotten how much she loved Walker's laughter.

“I don't have much in the petite department.”

“I'm not complaining,” she said archly. She snorted with laughter and darted toward what she suspected was the bathroom when he leapt off the bed and lunged for her.

Walker tilted his ear, assuring himself that Madeline was still in the shower. When he heard the water running, he picked up his cell phone. Jim Stephano picked up after two rings.

“You must have a sixth sense,” Jim said in a hushed voice.

“Did you find something?” Walker asked. Jim Stephano was the top expert in his division of the Secret Service for breaking encrypted communications. Tony had been hospitable enough about giving them exclusive access to his personal computers, but he hadn't given them passwords to several files. They'd agreed that Stephano would try to break in to them tonight while the household slept.

“It was too easy,” Stephano said. “Most of his firewalls relate to being outside of this room and house. Once we were inside that territory, getting to the payoff was relatively simple, although Hallas had a few good tricks up his sleeve.”

Walker was surprised at how heavy his chest felt at the news. Stephano had found what they were searching for. Tony was going to prison for conspiracy to commit wire and computer fraud. When he'd committed to this undercover operation, more than a decade of years had cushioned his regard for a childhood friend. Seeing Tony again had changed that. He may be spoiled and impulsive and foolish at times, but Tony was also a brilliant, dynamic man who had remained loyal to Walker over the years. Walker knew he was doing the right thing. Tony's actions had the ability to affect the stock markets and cause a panic in the banking industry.

But betraying their friendship tasted a lot sourer than he'd suspected it would.

“Tell me what you've got,” Walker said.

He listened closely while Stephano described finding an encrypted message from Tony describing the delivery of a piece of software that could give access to certain financial institution accounts. It was followed by a request for five million dollars to be transferred to an offshore account. Jim had even accessed the account number and delivery date of the funds, which came from a known Russian mob front in Moscow called Finansi.

“That's it,” Walker said flatly. “We've got him.”

“Yeah. And what the fuck? Why would a guy who's worth hundreds of millions of dollars do something to risk his future for five million measly bucks?”

“He wasn't doing it for the money. Not in a direct sense,” Walker said. “He was doing it in order to create a panic in the banking industry . . . a panic that would ensure all of those banks would run to Hallas Technologies in order to buy his security software.”

Stephano grunted. “The guy's a genius. Too bad he's been using that brain of his to cook up some real nasty business. There's more. Finansi Enterprises, the Russian mob front, sent several requests for additional software, but Tony refused. It appears Hallas's Russian friends are none too happy with him at the moment.”

Walker paused, absorbing this news. “Tony must be really sweating about that shot taken at Madeline, then. He thinks his former business partners are trying to tell him he can't stop playing in the middle of the game.”

“Just like what you suspected, Walk. Hallas was so desperate to protect Ms. Sayer from his prior misdeeds, he let the wolves right into his den. Course, it didn't hurt a bit that one of those wolves was an old, trusted friend.”

The smugness in Jim's voice made Walker cringe inwardly. He heard the water shut off in the bathroom and walked onto the dark balcony outside his bedroom.

“I'm going out with Tony and Madeline on his yacht this afternoon. I owe it to him to explain things in person. You guys be ready to stage Hallas's arrest when we return to shore.”

Madeline swam in the sweatpants and T-shirt Walker had given her. She looked ridiculous. Chances were that no one would see her and Walker returning, though. Tony was a late riser, and that meant his staff often kept relatively similar hours. She bent and picked up her blue gown and robe from the carpet. They were still damp. She held the gown close to her face and inhaled Walker's scent. The flash of arousal that tore through her surprised her a little. No thoughts or memories accompanied that surge of heat. Apparently, her body was programmed to respond to the scent of Walker's semen alone.

She was smiling as she walked out the door. Walker was still in the shower, and she wanted to take the opportunity to check out his new house before they left.

A few minutes later she wandered back into the foyer. He'd done well for himself. The house had large, airy rooms, and almost the entire lake-facing side of it was windows. She turned her ear up the stairs and thought she heard the sound of Walker moving around, dressing. She glanced down at her nightgown and robe.

If someone did happen to see them returning to the mansion, she'd prefer not to be seen holding the incriminating items. Walker's kitchen seemed completely barren when she'd inspected it earlier—he still hadn't fully moved into the house—but maybe he had some sort of bag where she could put her nightgown in his trunk?

She grabbed his car keys off the hook and headed outside.

Walker came up behind her a moment later as she stared into his lit trunk and shock settled on her slowly like a leaden cape. Through the haze of her bewilderment she noticed him glance into the trunk of the car and then at her face.

“I can explain, Madeline,” he said.

She flinched slightly like a fly had just landed on her face. She pointed into Walker's trunk. “A Ramo sniper rifle,” she said in a leaden voice, her eyes still glued to the inscription on the righthand corner of the black leather that encased what was obviously a deadly weapon. She looked up at him. “Russian, I think you said it was?”

“I can explain, Madeline,” he repeated quietly.

He reached for her shoulder but she stepped back.

“
You
shot at me?” she asked incredulously.

He exhaled in frustration and glanced skyward. After a moment of what appeared to be exasperated indecision on his part, he replied, “Yes. But I'm an excellent shot, Madeline. You were never in danger.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Everything had taken on a dream-like quality—the dark night enveloping them, the trunk with the gun, Walker's stiff expression in the glow of the trunk light, contrasting with the memory of everything that had come before that moment and her newfound sense of hope.

“I had to do something that would scare Tony enough, something that would motivate him to ask me inside the Aspen Lodge with my team,” Walker said quietly. He looked over at the trunk and briefly shut his eyes. “It was my idea. I suggested it to my boss. I knew Tony would be upset at the idea of you being threatened in any way . . . upset enough to invite me into his private sanctuary.”

“Your boss? I thought you were your own boss.”

“I am. Or I will be, as soon as this operation is finished.”

“Operation?” she whispered.

He nodded. “I'm technically still under the employ of the Secret Service, Madeline.” He looked at her face and nodded toward the car. “Come on. Get in, and I'll explain on the way. It's probably for the best. I was going to tell you later today anyway.”

Madeline got into the passenger seat of the car like an automaton. She said nothing as Walker drove through the dark, narrow mountain roads and listened while he explained about his undercover operation and Tony's alleged crime. She felt numb, not saying a word until he pulled back into the drive at the Aspen Lodge and parked his car.

“You said you came back to Lake Tahoe because of me,” she said, staring straight ahead.

“I
did
, Madeline. I would have been back here if this shit had happened with Tony or not. I wasn't lying about that.”

“But you really came back to Tahoe to arrest Tony for computer wire fraud,” she continued, her voice low and flat as if she just received a blow to the head and someone was trying to coach her through the last few minutes while she'd been muddled.

“It's
one
of the reasons I came back. When I saw those photos of you from Secret Service surveillance, it was like a kick to the gut. I may have shot that bullet in order to get Tony to open his doors to me, but that doesn't mean there isn't a true threat against you, with all Tony has gotten himself involved with. The Russian mob is ruthless. Maybe I made a preemptive strike with that rifle, but I was mimicking that exact type of thing they would do to put pressure on Tony for more goods. You were vulnerable, Madeline, and you didn't even know it. I don't regret doing something in order to make you safe.”

She turned and looked at him. She blinked twice, trying to see a face that'd haunted her for a better part of her life in better focus.

“How do you know I'm not just going to walk in that house and tell Tony the truth about what you've been doing in his house?” she asked.

His expression grew grim. “Even if you did, it wouldn't change anything. We have ample evidence, Madeline, and it's already been sent to DC. The arrest is going to happen, whether it's right now or later this afternoon. I'd think you'd want me to break it to him in person . . . man-to-man.”

“Man-to-man,” she whispered, stunned. “You
betrayed
Tony by using your friendship.”

“I did what I had to do. You have no idea the type of threat he's risking by his actions. It's one of the mandates of the Secret Service to protect the integrity of the U.S. financial system, Madeline. I'm doing my job.”

He started when she laughed, high and scathing. “Your
job.
Heaven forbid something should stop you from doing your
job
, Walker.”

He didn't follow her when she got out of the car and ran on bare feet toward the lodge.

T
ony opened the sliding glass doors that led to the helm and joined Madeline on the bridge seating area at the front of the yacht.

“The anchor's down. Didn't I pick an ideal spot?” Tony asked, sprawling on the white-cushioned circular couch. He looked like a bronzed Greek god wearing nothing but a pair of ivory trunks. He held a glass half filled with cranberry, vodka and ice. Madeline had noticed he'd been drinking ever since the brunch Alessandro served them at nine thirty this morning. Her desire to confront him about his upsurge in drinking had been quieted by Walker's alarming news.

Tony should do whatever pleased him this afternoon. It would likely be his last day of freedom for a while.