Silent Warrior: A Loveswept Classic Romance (11 page)

“They couldn’t before, when you gave them the notes and disk from the first deposit box, assuming that’s what they really were. They must have decided to send it on and let you do all the hard work for them.” John straightened and gathered up the binder. “We need to get out of here, Cali. Now.”

Cali tried not to react to the sudden urgency in his tone. She felt as if she’d ridden the world’s steepest roller coaster at warp speed. Her analytical mind was begging for time to sort through all the information she’d dumped into it. She also didn’t realize until that moment that she’d veered from terror over the certainty that she was going to die, to hope that a way out of this mess was possible after all. And even if they couldn’t find a way out, there was no loss in believing there was one until the last moment.

What else did she have to hold on to?

She looked at John. She had John—he was the source of her hope.

“Okay. What do we do? Where do we go?”

He was sliding the binder in her backpack, but he paused to look at her. “Did you just agree to do something without an argument?”

“I’m sure I’ll make up for it later.” There was a hint of something underneath his gibe. It sounded far too much like concern. Hope she needed, strength she needed. Concern and tenderness from John she didn’t need right now. It made her want to surrender what control she had to him, give herself entirely over to his very reliable, more than capable hands. It made her feel weak.

And weakness was the one thing she definitely could not risk. Not now. Not ever.

She turned away and went about cleaning up. She carefully disposed of the used chemicals and returned everything to its place.

Even her plans for a distracting attempt at friendship were beginning to look like a fool’s endeavor. She was coming to understand that any relationship with John McShane would not be done in half measures.

Once the sheet was passably dry, she protected it in a cover, then went to the door, flipped off the safelight, and turned the regular light back on. The sudden brightness made her squeeze her eyes shut. “What are we going to tell Quéval?”

From a point way inside her personal space, he said, “Nothing.”

She slowly opened her eyes. He was standing right in front of her. He reached for her. She braced herself for his touch, not having enough time to raise her defenses after her little internal assessment of her relationship with John.

It never came. Instead his hand went past her to the light switch. She automatically groped behind her for the doorknob as the small room was plunged into complete darkness.

“Now,
this
is a darkroom.” Her nervous laugh fell into the silence.

“I thought you had the door.”

“I do.” And an overactive imagination too. She found the knob and started to turn. His hand fell unerringly on her shoulder. She stilled.

“Cali—” His voice was rougher. Or maybe it just vibrated differently in the dark. He paused, then made a small sound, as if he was clearing his throat. Her own throat tightened.

“What?” She barely squeezed the word out.

“I, uh …”

John McShane, stuttering? She didn’t know whether to be alarmed or flattered. In reality, she was both. “What’s wrong, McShane?” Using his last name didn’t establish the critical distance she needed to feel from him right at that moment. She wasn’t sure anything would have.

“You really are handling this—all of this—well.”

She exhaled, certain that wasn’t what he’d been about to say, but nonetheless relieved that he had. “Thanks,” she tossed off. She twisted the knob again.

“Nathan would be proud of you, Cali.”

Her hand slid off the knob. She made some noise in her throat that was supposed to sound like a reply, but it was all tangled up in the emotions rising inside her at the sincerity in his quietly spoken words.

“Thank you, John,” she finally managed.

She felt his hand on her shoulder like a brand. His fingers tightened for a moment, then the pressure was gone. The warmth from his palm dissipated too quickly. She wanted to grab at his hand, put it back on her body. Better yet, how easy it would be to turn a fraction and press her entire length against his long, hard, warm frame. Security, strength, compassion. She knew he possessed all three. But that wasn’t what was making her skin tingle in anticipation, wasn’t what was making her pulse race or her palms moist.

Perhaps it was simply the turmoil that caused her to think about him as more than a skilled aide. But she quickly realized her attraction to one John McShane, super-secret spy, went beyond his job description or her need for his services in that capacity.

“We’d better get back to the bungalow.”

Her eyes had adjusted to the dark. He was big and close, his body angled to hers in a way that made her feel protected.

She turned. “Yeah, I guess we should.”

“Cali—”

He broke off. She didn’t rush to fill the silence. Instead she let it expand, deepen, until it, along with the darkness, enveloped them both like a cocoon.

He gently cupped her shoulders. She couldn’t repress
the shiver his touch sent racing over her. The coolness was a delicious counterpoint to the sudden coil of heat expanding inside her.

“John.” Her voice was throaty and rough. She didn’t back away this time. It made her feel as if she was vibrating from the inside out.

His hand drifted from her shoulder to her neck. She turned her cheek into his palm as his hand slid higher.

He stepped in closer. She let him.

Somewhere inside her head a little voice was screaming caution, telling her she didn’t need to get further involved with him.

But every other cell in her body was screaming that this was exactly what she needed. It was sure as hell what she wanted.

He rubbed his thumb across her lower lip. Her long sigh was low and broken, ending on a soft moan. “John.”

“Cali.” Her name was a warm, fresh breath across her lips. She parted them.

She’d expected his lips to be firm, the kiss to be hard and formidable, like the man. So she was completely undone by the soft, wet feel of his lips, the gentle way his mouth cushioned hers, giving more than taking.

“Oh,” she sighed, easing more fully into his kiss, wanting more of the unexpected, yet sweet succor she’d found there.

He let her deepen the kiss, his lips parting to take her mouth more fully. He allowed her a slow, thorough
exploration of his mouth, letting the kiss slowly build steam. Then he took the same liberty. She marveled at his almost painstaking patience. He made love to her mouth as if it were her entire body. And, in fact, her entire body was reacting. His control steadily eroded hers, until the pressure of the contained steam between them was of volcanic proportions.

She pressed her hands to his chest, feeling the evidence of what his control was costing him. His heart was pounding every bit as hard as hers. He lifted his mouth slightly on a long sigh. She felt it all the way to her suddenly wobbly knees. She slid her hands to his shoulders, holding on for support. His grip tightened too.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

His whispered words filtered slowly into the haze that was her brain. There was something there, she thought almost dazedly, something that sounded almost confessional.

Further thought was abruptly interrupted by a short rap at the door. John jerked back as if he’d been branded. Cali had no time to think.

“You almost done in there?” It was Quéval.

“Yes. Be out in a second.”

There was no missing the relief in his voice. That stung. Neither reaction made sense at the moment.

“Cali, I—”

The confusion and the sudden yank back to reality served to jump-start her control. She straightened her
back and put a small but crucial bit of space between them.

“Don’t.” She looked into the shadow that was his face. There was nothing there to guide her. “Just let it go, okay?” She didn’t wait for an answer, knowing McShane did whatever he damn well pleased. She wasn’t remotely up to the task of finding out what pleased him at the moment. She turned and opened the door to find Quéval all but pressed up against it. It made her wonder how long he’d been there.

Funneling irritation over the rush of emotions inside her toward Quéval was an easy out. She wasn’t too proud to take it.

“I’m sorry, did you knock again?” she said with saccharine sweetness. “Thank you so much for your lab.”

“The pictures, they are done? Can I see them?”

Cali opened her mouth to tell him that she was terribly sorry but the photos were too drab and dreary, but John, apparently reading her mood too well, smoothly stepped between them.

He nudged her firmly past Quéval, saying, “I think what I have here is great. I didn’t want to waste your chemicals doing them all up. We’re heading out of here right now.”

Cali looked over her shoulder just as Quéval’s eyes lit up. He’d been following John down the hallway, but stopped. “You’re leaving the island?”

Cali noted that John picked up on the undercurrents immediately. His congenial smile never wavered as he turned back to the shopkeeper. “Why, yes. I
think my search is over. I’m going to head straight back to the studios and get to work on a presentation. I’ll develop them there. I appreciate your help.”

“Your studio is in New York City?”

Cali felt rather than saw John tense. She hadn’t missed his intentionally vague reference.

“We have both East and West Coast offices.” He turned back down the hall, pushing Cali along in front of him. “Thanks again.”

His pace wasn’t rushed, but his grip on her arm told Cali that nothing was going to stop him until he was outside.

“You will let me know?” Quéval followed them down the hall, apparently so intent on getting information out of them that he was unconcerned over appearing anxious.

“Sure thing.” John waved a hand over his head, then all but shoved Cali out the front door. “We’ve got less than an hour to get off this island,” he said, his voice low and carrying only as far as her ear. He picked up his speed, causing her to stumble along beside him for a few steps.

She finally pulled away from him and stopped. “Can we slow down for a second?”

“No.” He kept walking.

“We forgot my box of merchandise. John—” She broke off on a frustrated sigh and stormed after him. Her legs were average length, but she was almost trotting to maintain his pace. “Do you really think they are so close?”

“Breathing down our proverbial necks. Weren’t you listening back there?”

“Of course. I know you purposely avoided telling him where we were heading. But that’s just good common sense.”

“Everything we said will be common knowledge very shortly.”

“Oh, come on, he’s a busybody, but the whole town isn’t in on this conspiracy.”

“Someone nearby is. Bet on it.”

“Your super-secret”—she stopped when he glared at her—“spy instincts,” she finished evenly. “I can get my stuff out of the bungalow in less than thirty minutes.”

“No time for that. We’re heading directly for the harbor.”

“There has to be time.” She stopped. “Harbor?” He kept on walking. She had to dash to catch up to him. She grabbed his elbow. “Slow down, or I’ll pass out before we get anywhere.” He did. Marginally. “John, I have to go back to the bungalow. Five minutes. Just let me get a few things. It’s important.”

“You can get whatever you need when we get off the island.”

“I’m not talking about cosmetics and a treasured blouse, McShane.” She yanked on his arm. “For God’s sake, slow down!” It was like trying to stop a train with a handcart. She let go and abruptly stopped, crossing her arms. The path to the bungalow forked ahead. He strode another dozen yards before
finally slowing then stopping. He looked up, sighed, then turned to face her.

“Whatever it is can’t be worth your life.”

Calmly, she said, “What I want is all I have left of my life.”

John stared at her for an eternal moment, then turned toward the path leading to the bungalow. “Five minutes.” He didn’t look back to see if she followed.

Cali refused to run, but she did catch up with him as they hit the front walk. She stepped on the deck in front of him and turned at the door. “Thank you. It’s just some photos and the stuff in my purse. But it’s all of me I have left.”

“Just hurry.”

She frowned. Where was the tender, compassionate man who’d kissed her so thoroughly? “I’ll be out in two.” She slipped through the screen and headed straight to the small bedroom. She heard the door tap the frame and John’s soft tread on the floor. She felt rather than heard him in the doorway behind her. She tossed the backpack on the bed and opened the single small drawer on the wicker nightstand. “Eudora will have a field day wondering where I went when she comes to get the flowers. At least I paid her up front. I’d feel awful if—” She was rambling. Nerves. She took several steady breaths. John remained silent. It didn’t help much. He made an impressive sentry.

She scooped the contents of the drawer into the backpack then snagged a handful of shorts, tees, and
underwear from the wardrobe. “I could throw this in a suitcase and—”

“Keep it light, only what you can carry.”

“Fine.” She hit the small bathroom and dumped her cosmetics bag in. She thought she heard John sigh but wasn’t sure. She smiled. “Hey, it was here, I was here. You never know when you might need kohl eyeliner while dodging bullets. Could come in handy.”

John scowled. She’d been hoping for a reaction. That hadn’t been it. “Okay, okay. Done. Let’s go.”

She got to the doorway but he didn’t budge. “Well?”

The tension emanating from him was almost a visual aura. “Cali, there are some things you should know. In case anything happens to me. Who to contact.”

“Give it to me on the boat. I assume that is the desired method of travel?” She spoke quickly, not wanting to entertain even for a moment the thought that anything could happen to him. “Come on.” She went to push past him. He stopped her. She didn’t look at him. “McShane, you’ve been yelling at me about how much of a hurry we’re in. Let’s go.”