Person of Interest (7 page)

Elizabeth would have given anything to see his face just then. If the red rushing up his neck was any indication, his whole face was most likely beet-red.

She couldn’t torture him too long. He did have a problem. “I’m kidding, Hennessey.”

He moved his head slowly from side to side but didn’t look at her. “Very good, Doc, you might get the hang of this after all.”

Feeling guilty for her bad joke, she urged him back into bed and tucked the sheet properly around him. Minutes later Stark arrived with the medication. Elizabeth thanked him and gave Hennessey the proper dose.

She settled into the chair near the bedside table and waited to see if the medication would work.

“You should get some sleep, Doc,” he said, finally meeting her gaze. “If I need any more I can handle it.” He gestured to the bottle she’d left on the table next to her bag.

“That’s all right, Hennessey. You’re my patient. I think I’d be more comfortable keeping an eye on you for a while.”

Resigned to his fate, he heaved a put-upon sigh and closed his eyes.

Elizabeth glanced at the clock—two-thirty. She should go back to bed, but she doubted she would sleep now. Not after that awful dream and not with Hennessey uncomfortable.

She watched him try to lay still, his hand on his stomach and she wished there was a way to make the medicine work faster, but there wasn’t. It would take ten to twenty minutes. She thought about what they’d eaten for dinner and wondered why she wasn’t sick. Then again maybe she would be before the night was through.

As if the thought had somehow stirred some part of her that had still been sleeping, her stomach clenched painfully then roiled threateningly.

She recognized the warning immediately and reached for the bottle to down a dose.

“You, too?”

Her gaze met Hennessey’s as she twisted the cap back onto the bottle. “Guess so.” She grimaced, as much from the yucky taste as from another knot of discomfort.

A light knock on the door and Stark stuck his head inside. “Any chance I could get some of that?”

Before the night was finished all three agents on duty had come in for medication.

At dawn Joe lay on his side watching Elizabeth sleep in the chair not three feet from his bed. She
looked more beautiful than any woman had a right to. Her long hair lay against the crisp white of her robe. And those lips, well, they were pretty damned sweet, too. He would give anything right now to taste her. He would lay odds that she tasted hot and fiery, just like her spirit.

Oh, she tempered the fiery side with that cool, calm facade, but he could feel the hellion breathing flames beneath that ultracontrolled exterior.

His gaze traveled over her chest and down to her hips and then to the shapely legs curled beneath her. She worked so hard at everything she allowed herself to do. He wondered if she would work half as hard to be happy.

This was one lady who didn’t fully understand the meaning of the word. He’d read what was available on her childhood. Nice family. Moved around a lot since her father had been military, but there didn’t appear to be any deep, dark secrets. What had made Elizabeth Cameron so hard on herself? So determined not to fail when it came to helping others?

That was the sole reason, in Joe’s estimation, that put her out of the suspect pool. No way would she do anything to endanger another human being. She simply wasn’t wired that way. No amount of money—if money were even an issue for her—would entice her. He understood that completely.

Maddox was dead and Calder and Allen were directors. Joe had been filled in when he was selected for the assignment. Who else could have accessed those files?

Three months ago when he’d had to step in long enough to save this pretty lady’s skin, someone had broken into her clinic. Had that been the beginning? Were the files the target then? Or had the whole exercise been about casting suspicion in a different direction?

There was no way to know. All he’d had was Maddox’s urgent request for backup. Maddox claimed he’d stumbled onto a plan to go after the files of Dr. Elizabeth Cameron. Someone had evidently connected her to the CIA. Of course she had no files related to the Agency.

The only thing he did know for a certainty was how terrified she was that night. He’d held her close to him and she’d trembled. She’d had no idea what was happening, nor did she now. He was convinced. In any event, her safety was one of the Agency’s top priorities.

The idea that someone might be setting her up had crossed his mind. But there was no proof as of yet. There was no evidence of anything. Only three dead agents. Still, a real player would have known the files wouldn’t be in her office.

Every precaution was being taken to keep the rest of those agents safe, but some were in the middle of dicey operations with higher priorities requiring that they remain undercover.

Those were the ones most at risk.

Joe wished like hell there was a way to speed up this process, except there simply wasn’t. His fingerprints could be altered with a clear substance that formed to his skin in such a way that no one could tell the difference. But his face, that had been done in the only way possible. Surgically. Until the swelling and redness were gone he had no choice but to stay right here.

Not that it was such a hardship.

He wondered if David Maddox had had the first clue that the chemistry would be so strong between Joe and Elizabeth. Surely he wouldn’t have requested Joe to go to her rescue all those months ago if he’d had any idea that might be the case. Then again, he had known Joe’s reputation, however exaggerated.

It was true that Joe dated often and rarely the same lady more than twice. But not all those dates resulted in sex. Not that he was complaining about the reputation. He’d always enjoyed the hype.

Until now.

That thought came out of nowhere, but when he analyzed the concept he knew it was true. Some
thing about the way Elizabeth looked at him when she talked about his reputation didn’t sit right.

He wanted her to respect him at least to some degree. Funny thing was, he’d never once worried about that before. He studied the woman sleeping so peacefully. Why was it that what she thought about him mattered so much?

His job performance had always been above reproach. He did what he had to do no matter the cost. Not a single doubt had ever crossed his mind on that score. People respected his professional ability, no question. If anyone had ever been suspect of him personally he hadn’t noticed.

Maybe that was the issue at hand here. Had the doctor’s blatant distaste with his so-called reputation finally made him take a hard look at what someone else thought about him as a man…as a human being?

He closed his eyes and blocked her image from view.

He didn’t want to think anymore. His stomach still felt a little queasy and his face hurt.

Why look for more trouble?

Just over two weeks after surgery the bandages were gone, but some of the swelling and redness remained. All in all, Elizabeth was quite pleased with Hennessey’s progress in that respect.

It was the tension brewing between them that she could have done without.

From the moment the last of the bandages had come off a subtle shift had occurred between them. Quite frankly Elizabeth couldn’t say for sure whether it was her or him or if that was actually when it began. But something had changed on a level over which neither of them appeared to have any control.

Or at least she didn’t.

Admittedly she couldn’t read Hennessey’s mind, but she didn’t doubt for a second that he suffered some amount of discomfort related to the tension as well.

And to think, she could have been soaking up the sun and drinking martinis the past two weeks.

She blew out a breath and folded the last of her laundry. The Agency had delivered her luggage the day after her arrival, but a number of the outfits she’d packed for her vacation were far from what she would have preferred to wear in Hennessey’s presence. The bikinis were definitely off-limits. She’d had no choice but to wear the few, more conservative outfits over and over.

Hennessey stuck with jeans and button-up shirts or T-shirts. He went around barefoot most of the time. For some reason that bothered her considerably more than it should. It wasn’t that he had unattractive feet. To the contrary. His feet actually fascinated her. Large and well-formed. Like the rest of him.

She rolled her eyes and pushed aside the stupid, stupid obsession she had with the man.

Watching David’s face slowly emerge beyond the swelling and redness only made matters worse. Perhaps that was even the catalyst in all of this. She just couldn’t be certain of anything.

The last time she’d gotten too close to Hennessey the yearning to lean into his arms had been almost overwhelming.

Was she losing her mind or what?

Thankfully no other agents had been murdered since Motley and his wife. Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut to block the image of the face she’d transformed for the very purpose of protecting the man behind it.

Hennessey assured her that the investigation was ongoing but all had surrendered to the idea that whoever was behind these killings couldn’t be stopped any way but by infiltrating the group David had once affiliated himself with. Another week at least before that could happen.

The one other agent they had initially tried to send undercover to infiltrate the group several weeks ago had been killed in the first twenty-four hours. Using David’s face as safe entry was the only hope of getting anywhere near the truth.

Elizabeth sat down on the edge of the bed. She hadn’t let herself think too much about David and the past since that night the whole lot of them—she, Hennessey and their guards—had gotten a mild case of food poisoning. Stomach cramps and a few mad dashes to the bathroom but, thankfully, nothing more disconcerting than that.

For days now she had set her emotions outside the goings-on within these walls. She had separated the bond she had shared with the man, David, from the CIA operative, David. It hadn’t been that difficult, to
her utter surprise. She’d turned off her personal emotions and looked at this operation as a case.

But would there be repercussions later? She was a trained physician. She understood that the human psyche could only fool itself to a certain point before reality would override fantasy.

She had far too many scheduled patients depending upon her for her to take a chance on suffering a psychotic break of any sort. Not that she felt on the verge of any kind of break, but she recognized that things with her weren’t as they should be.

Scarcely a week from now her part in this would be over. Surely she could manage another five or six days. She and Hennessey had learned to be cordial to each other most of the time, had even shared a laugh or two.

But then there was the tension. She’d pretty much determined that the source of the steadily increasing tension was sexual. He was a man, she was a woman; plain, old chemistry saw to the rest.

Though she didn’t dare guess how long it had been since Hennessey had had sex, she knew exactly how long it had been for her. Four long months. And that last time with David had felt off somehow. As if they were out of sync, no longer in tune to one another.

Elizabeth pushed the memories aside. Those painful recollections had nothing to do with any of this.
She was a woman. She had fundamental needs that had been ignored. End of subject.

When she’d put the rest of her laundry away she went in search of her pupil. Might as well get on with today’s lesson. More syntax and inflection. He wasn’t that far off. She’d heard him in his room at night practicing with tapes of David’s voice. She hadn’t asked where the tapes had come from. Interviews from old CIA cases or maybe from surveillance tapes.

As she descended the stairs she wondered if he would let her listen to the tapes. Probably not, since they likely involved cases that she didn’t have clearance for. Oh well, why torture herself anyway. David was gone. Listening to old tapes of his voice would be detrimental to her mental health. It didn’t take a psychologist to see that one coming around the corner.

At the last step she froze. Hennessey, his back to her, had walked across the room, from the coffeemaker on the counter to the sofa in the middle of the living space. The way he’d moved had stolen her breath. Not like Hennessey at all. Like David.

Exactly like David.

She watched him sit down and take a long swill from his mug. Her hands started to tremble. When had he learned to do that? Their lessons had progressed well but nothing on this level.

Summoning her wits she took the last step
down. “Coffee smells great.” Somehow she dredged up a smile.

He did the same, but it looked nothing like a David smile.

Thank God.

Wait. The goal was for him to look, act and speak like David.

“You need to work on that smile,” she said as she moved toward the kitchen and the coffee. Maybe a strong, hot cup would help clear her head. Obviously she was a little off this morning.

“That smile was for you, not for the mission,” he explained.

She poured herself a cup of steaming brew and decided that, as usual, honesty was the best policy. “I saw you walk across the room. It was uncanny.” She turned to face him, the hot cup cradled in her hands. “How did you get so good between yesterday and today?”

Strangely, he looked away before answering. “I did a lot of practicing last night. I didn’t want you to be disappointed again today.”

That felt like a lie even if it sounded sincere.

She padded across the room and took the seat opposite his position on the sofa. Since he never wore shoes she’d decided she wouldn’t bother either.

“I’m glad that how I feel matters to you, Agent Hennessey.” She sipped her cup as he analyzed her.
Her interrogation had roused his suspicions. Just another reason for her to be suspect.

He set his cup on the table that separated them. “How you feel matters a great deal to me, Doc.”

Since she had refused to call him Joe he had reverted to calling her Doc. She didn’t like it but when one resolved to play dirty, one couldn’t complain.

“Let’s get started,” she suggested, resting her cup alongside his.

“Let’s,” he agreed.

Well, wasn’t he Mr. Agreeable this morning? Very strange indeed.

J
OE RAN THROUGH
the steps with Elizabeth until noon brought Agent Dawson and lunch. Whenever Dawson was on duty he dined with them, so Joe had the opportunity to study his teacher.

Every aspect of her cooperation in this mission felt genuine. Even after more than two weeks in close quarters, he would swear that she was above reproach. But he had to be absolutely certain. Two days before this aspect of the mission began Director Allen had informed him of another part of his assignment: make sure Dr. Cameron hadn’t been a party to Maddox’s act of treason.

To say Joe had been stunned would be putting it mildly, but like any other assignment, he did his duty.

Director Calder had told her the truth about why she was needed for his operation…at least to a degree. That part Joe had known. He had also already known how to walk and talk like Maddox. He only needed a little extra help with a few of his more intimate mannerisms. More important he needed to know as many details as possible about the relationship they had shared.

Joe had hoped to go about this in a way that wouldn’t cause Elizabeth further hurt, but that might prove impossible for two reasons.

Director Allen, Joe’s immediate boss, still wasn’t convinced of Elizabeth’s innocence—despite Joe’s assessment. Joe had learned that Director Calder, Allen’s boss and
the
director of the CIA, was the only reason stronger measures hadn’t been taken to determine her involvement, if any, with what David Maddox had done.

Maddox had sold out his country in several ways, but there was no absolute proof that he was the one who’d released the names. All indications pointed to him, but there were also a number, Allen had suggested, that pointed to Elizabeth as having been in on it with him.

With Maddox dead there was really no way to be certain.

Unless Joe could fool Maddox’s primary contact from his final operation.

The only glitch was the fact that the contact was female.

Joe settled his gaze on Elizabeth Cameron and wondered if she’d had any idea that Maddox had maintained an ongoing relationship with another woman.

If she did, she hid it well.

Nothing about her demeanor over the past two weeks and some days had given him the first hint of deceit.

But she was suspicious.

She’d made no secret of it. Just another indicator that she wasn’t one to hide her feelings.

“Aren’t you hungry, Agent Hennessey?” she asked, drawing his attention back to the table.

Dawson’s scrutiny was now on him as well. He wasn’t happy with the situation at all. The more Allen pushed for information on Elizabeth, the more dissatisfied Dawson grew. Joe regarded the other man a moment and would have bet his life that the guy had a little crush on the good doctor. Of course Dawson was married with two kids and as faithful as they came in this business.

Joe pushed his plate aside. “I’m good. Let me know when you’re ready to get started again.”

It wasn’t like he could take a walk, but he could go to his room for a few minutes before the next session of alone time with her.

He closed the door to his room and walked over to the dresser. He stared at his face, the one that looked nothing like him and more and more like David Maddox.

In a few days the swelling and redness would be all but gone. Then he could move to the next step.

His colored contacts had already been delivered. Probably by tomorrow he would need to start getting accustomed to wearing them. He doubted it would be a problem. He’d done that part before. It was the drastic change in his face that gave him pause.

He’d been mimicking Maddox’s speech and movements for weeks before this. But—he reached up and touched his face—this was different.

The counseling hadn’t fully prepared him. He’d thought he would be fine with it, but the more Maddox’s face emerged the less prepared he felt.

Nothing had ever affected him this way.

That the worst was likely yet to come didn’t help.

He had to find a way to prod intimate details from Elizabeth. How Maddox kissed…how he made love to her was essential to Joe’s success. He
couldn’t go into this without being fully prepared on every level.

The only question that remained at this point was how he would get the answers he needed without hurting Elizabeth with the ugly details.

A knock at his door told him his time for soul searching was up.

“Yeah?”

The door opened and Elizabeth strolled into his room. “I need to understand what’s going on here, Hennessey,” she demanded. “I get the feeling you’ve been hiding something from me.”

Well, here was his opportunity.

Question was, did he have the guts to take advantage of it?

Only one way to find out.

“Here’s the thing.” He moved toward her, locked his gaze with hers and let her feel the intensity. He needed her off balance. “One of the contacts Maddox had is female. I can’t be certain how close they were, considering his relationship with this group preceded the two of you.” That part was a flat-out lie but he was improvising here in an attempt to save her the heartache.

A frown furrowed a path across her brow. “How is that possible? He worked as my handler for a year prior to our…relationship. I thought the operation came later, after he’d gone back into field duty.”

This is where things got slippery.

“One of the contacts in his last operation was someone he had known for years.” He shrugged as if it was no big deal. “An on-again, off-again flame who unknowingly provided him with useful intelligence from time to time. She’s my only safe way into this.”

Elizabeth wasn’t convinced. Far from it.

“Why haven’t you mentioned this before?” The frown had given way to something along the lines of outright accusation. “No one has mentioned anything about a woman.”

“You know the drill, Doc,” he said, careful to keep the regret from his tone, “need to know. The golden rule we live by every day. You had no compelling need to know this part until now.”

“If your superiors told you that excuse would make me feel better about this new information, they were wrong,” she said in a calm voice but the turmoil of emotions in her eyes belied her unyielding statement.

“We can move back downstairs to have this conversation,” he suggested in deference to her comfort. He felt reasonably certain she didn’t want to talk about certain details in the room where he slept.

Her expression hardened—the change was painful to watch. “Don’t be ridiculous, Hennessey. I’m a doctor. Nothing you say or ask about the human body
or the act of procreation will make me uncomfortable in any setting.”