The Manolo Matrix (19 page)

“Be brilliant,” I said.

He took it, then headed for the bathroom as I settled back with my notes, this time focusing on the second chunk of the clue. I was just about to Google “Morgan” and “Catiline” when my cell phone rang.

The shrill sound echoed through the silence of the room, making me jump.

My fingers closed around the phone, and I yanked it up without checking the caller ID. “I’m here! Hello!

Who is it?”

Even as I said the words, dread washed over me. I’d assumed the caller was Brian or my parents
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or any one of a number of people who calls just to chat any number of times each day. But as I answered, I

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realized the caller could be the assassin. And with that single thought, my mouth went dry and my body stiffened. I fought the urge to hang up, but I managed to wait it out.

Then I heard the familiar “Jenn?”

I just about sagged in relief.

Mel continued, speaking so fast I almost couldn’t understand her. “Oh, God, Jenn! I’m so sorry.

I’m in

Geneva, and we’re on a communications blackout. They gave us an hour to check messages and return calls and so I did and WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. My throat was too dry. I swallowed, then tried again, realizing as I did that I’d moved to the side of the bed and practically collapsed there. “Mel!

Thank God!

I didn’t want to leave the details in a message. I was afraid—I’m not sure what I was afraid of.

That you’d freak out, maybe.”

“Dammit, Jenn, I’m freaking out now! You mentioned PSW! You sounded hysterical! I swear if you don’t tell me exactly what’s going on right now I’m going to reach right through this phone and strangle you!”

“A message,” I squeaked. I cleared my throat, and managed to sound more normal (albeit terrified). “I

got a message, Mel. I’m playing the fucking game.”

“What?”

“PSW,” I said. I started to mention Andy, but I didn’t want to her to worry her any more than necessary. Especially since she was stuck in Switzerland, totally incommunicado.

“No.” The word came out with such conviction that I could practically see her shaking her head.

“No.

That’s not possible.”

“Believe me, it’s not only possible, it’s true.”

“I’ll make some excuse. I’ll get out of the training. Special dispensation or something and I’ll be there as soon as I can. Where are you?”

“Right now, we’re at the—hey!”I fell backwards onto the bed as Devlin yanked the phone out of my hands. My heart pounded in my chest and I glared at him and scrambled to my knees as I reached for the phone. He moved deftly out of the way, then pressed his palm against my chest and shoved me back on the bed when I managed to scramble close again.

“Jenn?Jenn ?” Mel’s voice filtered from the phone. “What happened?Are you all right? Jenn!”

“She’s fine,” Devlin said into the phone. I could hear her voice, but I couldn’t make out her words.

“Mel, it’s Devlin,” he said. “Devlin Brady. I’m with her. She’s fine. For now. Don’t come up here. Don’t call back. You don’t need to get drawn back into this shit, and I don’t want to put you at risk.” Another pause, and then, “Yeah, well, I’m already at risk. I’m the target.”

He opened his mouth, apparently wanting to say more, but I could hear the hum of Mel’s voice cutting him off. Finally, he just jumped into the fray. “Mel! Mel! Calm down, okay. She’ll be fine.

We’ll be fine…. I know you don’t, but I do. And Jenn does, too.” He scowled at the phone. “I’m hanging up

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now.” And then, without giving her a chance to say anything more, he did just that.

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I stared at him, completely flabbergasted. “What the—”

He shoved the phone into my hand. “You can’t pull her into this.”

I lost it. “Why not? Damn it, Devlin, why the fuck not?” I shook my head, not comprehending.

“She’s brilliant at this kind of thing. She could totally help us. I need—”

He pulled me roughly into his arms, effectively shutting me up. I pressed my face against his chest, and his arms tightened around me. My body fired in response. Dear Lord, one minute, I was riding a wave of terror, and the next I was surfing on lust. Red hot and desperate.

I’m not so stupid to believe it was real. I’m not. But thesensation. Theneed. That was real. And so was the fire building between us. I wanted to dive right in and burn myself in that fire. Flame purifies, right?

And that’s what I wanted. A few minutes of absolute, blissful purity.

I pulled back just enough so I could tilt my head up. And in a bold move that really isn’t my style, my lips found his and—oh, yes!—he responded wholeheartedly. His mouth opened, and his hand moved from my back to my ass. He pressed me tight against him, tight enough that I could tell this wasn’t an act—the man was definitely turned on.

I wove my fingers through his hair, clinging to him, wanting to just lose myself in him. God, I wanted to forget everything and just feel. Feel his hands on me, his cock in me. Anything and everything. Mostly, though, I wanted to feel safe.

He shifted, and somehow my back ended up against the wall. My fingers fumbled at his belt, and all I

could think of was theyes, please, now chorus that was singing in my head.

His hands closed on mine. “Wait.”

“What?” I pulled away. “Why?”

His face, so full of lust only moments before, now seemed lost and a little sad. Immediately, I felt like an idiot. I shouldn’t have come on to him. I shouldn’t have kissed him. I shouldn’t have—

“I want to,” he said, and I closed my eyes in relief. “So help me, I want you so much right now I think it might just kill me.”

“Then why not?”

“Because the timing stinks. You’re scared. You don’t know what to do next. You don’t want to think about what’s going to happen if we don’t solve this damn clue. And so you’re trying to forget all of that, even if just for a few minutes.”

“No, I—” But I closed my mouth. It was true. Everything he said was true. I was desperately—

desperately—attracted to this man. But right then—right at that particular moment—I think any man would do.

I turned away, suddenly unable to meet his eyes, and my arms crossed automatically over my chest.

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He stroked my cheek. “It’s okay. It’s okay to be scared. To want to feel that rush so you know you’re alive, and somehow manage to forget the fear at the same time. But it’s hollow.” He sighed, moved a step away. “Trust me. I know what I’m talking about. And I don’t want hollow with you, Jenn.”

Something in his voice reached out to me, and I turned, looking up at him curiously. The corner of his mouth lifted. Barely a smile, but enough that I was willing to count it. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I want you. But not now. Not in a rush. Later, when we have the time to do it right.

And when it’s about us, and not about a killer.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I nodded. I probably ought to have been mortified, but I wasn’t.

Instead, all that danced through my head was the realization that he really did want me. And not
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as a quick fuck.

In a day full of horrors, I chalked that up as a minor miracle.

I wandered away, a bit aimlessly, as I wasn’t sure what to do now. I’d lost my balance, and I didn’t know how to find it again. We needed to worry about the clues, but I didn’t know how. I was lost, and right then, all my focus was on this man.

“What happened to you?” I asked, when I couldn’t stand it any longer.

“We don’t have time for this,” he said, his face closing up on me.

“We do,” I insisted. “Don’t you know? If you just take your mind off a problem, the solution always comes. My subconscious is doing its thing. So’s yours. So while our brains are working their tails off, tell me. I want to know, Devlin. What happened. A man like you, alone, in that dark apartment. It’s like you were in prison or something. Only you’d stuck yourself there.”

“I guess I had,” he said. He looked up, his eyes hitting me with fierce intensity. “I killed my partner.”

I let out a little gasp, but he went on.

“I lost my badge, my gun. I guess you could say I was having the pity party to end all pity parties.”

I swear, my heart was breaking. “But where are your family? Your friends?”

Considering the question was perfectly serious, I was surprised when he laughed.

“What?” I demanded.

“You,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

He just chuckled. “Anyone else would have zeroed in on the fact that I offed my partner. Not you.

You’re wondering where my support network is.” He stroked me cheek. “You’ve got a special way of looking at things, Jenn.”

I lifted my chin, a little flattered, a little embarrassed. “You didn’t kill him on purpose.”

“Why do you say that?”

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“I know you.”

He shook his head. “No, you don’t.”

“Not completely, but enough. And I’m right, aren’t I? You didn’t kill him on purpose.”

“I shot him on purpose,” Devlin said, his expression tight. “But you’re right. I wasn’t trying to kill him. I

was trying to save my ass.”

I hesitated, then sat beside him and took his hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. Suffice it to say I learned that he’d gone dirty. And he knew that I knew. And he was setting me up.”

“So the shooting was self-defense.”

“Damn straight.”

“Then why did they take away your badge? Is that like standard operating procedure?”

His face tightened. “No, not at all.”

“Well?”

“Jenn…”

“I want to know, Devlin.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Randall was trying to blackmail me into not turning him in. So he did a few things that made it look like I’d thrown in with him.”

“And even after you shot him, they still thought you were bad?”

“Essentially. I’ve spent my whole adult life with the FBI and have a service record as clean as a whistle, but still they pulled my badge and sicced OPR on me.”

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“Opie what?”

“O. P. R.,” he repeated, rubbing the back of his neck. I almost offered to give him a neck massage, but my hold on my libido was still too tenuous. “Office of Professional Responsibility.

Like Internal Affairs for cops.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. So am I.”

“What about your job?”

“Suspended pending investigation.”

“But you’ll be cleared? I mean your partner really was dirty, so it’ll all be okay in the end.”

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“ ‘Okay,’ ” he repeated, as if he were exploring the sound of the word. “I’m being investigated for the very thing I deplore and have spent over a decade fighting against. My former partner’s dead—by my gun—and his little girl doesn’t have a father. So I’m not really sure that it’s ever going to be okay.”

“Hischoices,” I said. “Not yours. And you’ll get your job back.”

“I’m not so sure I want it anymore.”

“You could always go back to the theater,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

“No thanks. Although it would certainly thrill my mother. She’s always said my biggest mistake was leaving the theater. She’d consider my current situation God’s way of balancing the scales.”

“She doesn’t know?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “We don’t exactly have a warm, fuzzy relationship.”

“Oh.” Okay, so we weren’t dealing with my overly involved, overly boisterous family. “Haven’t you got anyone to dump on about all this? I mean, if it were me, I’d be on the phone to my mom or my sister or

Mel in a heartbeat. Surely you’ve got someone. Father? Siblings? Friends?”

“Dead, none, quiet.”

“Quiet?”

“After a while on the job, you realize that all your friends are agents, too. And when something like this happens, the bulk of them scatter.”

“Then maybe they aren’t really your friends.”

“Maybe not.”

“You picked a hard life,” I said, once again wondering why. I couldn’t get that Tony award out of my head.

“So did you. Theater’s brutal.”

“So far, I haven’t had the pleasure of suffering for my art.” I met his eyes. “I promise, I’ll drop it if you don’t want to talk about it. But I’m really curious. Why the change? You were on the stage.

You won awards. That’s just so, soincredible. ”

“It is,” he agreed. “And I loved it in a way. But it wasn’t in my blood. My mother’s blood, yeah.

But not mine.”

“Stage mother.”

“To the nth degree. Don’t get me wrong, I did enjoy the work. Stayed in it even after I’d fired my mom.

But once I hit college, I knew it wasn’t the life I wanted. My mom considered it a slap in the face.

It would have been bad enough if I’d just given up theater. I had to pursue my dad’s career.”

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“He died in the line of duty?”

“Cancer,” Devlin said. “But their marriage was over even before I was born. There was so much
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bad blood between them it was like a thick red curtain. It—” He cut himself off with a shake of his head.

“You know what, it doesn’t matter. I am who I am today, and I don’t regret any of it. I worked my ass off in the theater, but I wanted something more. Being an actor is amazing, but I wanted…I don’t know.

I wanted to be out there fighting the fight, not just playing a part. My mother always said I had an overdeveloped sense of justice, but I think hers was just on the puny side. But maybe she was right.

Maybe that’s what the pull was. Some corny need to get out there and save the world.”

“Serve and protect,” I said. “Sure worked in my favor.”