Undercover Virgin (4 page)

"And what do you figure my role will be in your alternative plan?" he grumbled, his hopes of a speedy return to
Texas
fading fast.

Tension sizzled in the silence that followed. They both knew he didn't want any further involvement, but he'd promised Sullivan to keep her safe until she had adequate protection. He didn't make idle promises, and this one had just taken on a whole new perspective.

"That's up to you," she said. "You can drop me off in
Hendersonville
or you can accompany me to my destination."

"Which is?"

"Ultimately,
Kentucky
."

"What's in
Kentucky
?"

"It's not what's there, but who and what aren't there."

"Haroldson and the strong arms of his organization?"

"Right."

Kyle had little alternative but to follow her plan of action. It grated that he'd been so close to making his solitary getaway, but he couldn't just dump her alongside the road. He'd have to stick with her until alternative plans could be coordinated with Sullivan.

Reining his frustration, he focused his thoughts on
Blaine
, mentally reexamining every aspect of the agent's participation in Margie's last assignment. Not for the first time, he wished he knew more about what went wrong that day. The lack of details was a constant thorn in his side.

They drove through the late afternoon with minimal conversation, each lost in thought. Much to his annoyance, Kyle grew increasingly aware of his sexy, enigmatic companion. He became attuned to every subtle move she made; his nerves jangling when any part of her shifted closer to him.

They passed a car with a kid
mushing
his face against the window, and Rianna chuckled softly. The sound punched him in the gut, making him feel things that weren't safe to feel.

Despite his fundamental longing for a woman, he knew better than to get physically or emotionally tangled with this one. She was trouble with a capital T. She represented everything he knew he should avoid—federal bureaucracy, undercover activities and Gregory Haroldson's criminal dealings.

And she was another man's lover. The circumstances were strange, to be sure, but that still made her off-limits. He tried not to focus on her quiet, undemanding presence or wonder what she was thinking and feeling.

To keep his thoughts off his hormones and his companion, Kyle replayed the events of the day over and over in his mind.

He wondered if Hoskins was as dirty as
Blaine
. They'd seemed surprised to see him at the safe house, so Sullivan must have kept his involvement a secret.

How much of the agency's security had been compromised?
Blaine
had been an agent for years. How much money did it take to buy a man's soul? How much to make him betray his comrades or sign death warrants for co-workers?

How widespread was the corruption? He wanted a few words with Sullivan, but didn't want to make contact through the agency. He'd wait and call his home number later. It was long past the time for some answers.

Frustrated with his own thoughts, Kyle's attention turned to Rianna. She lifted a hand to rub the back of her neck, the first small indication of weariness. She had to be exhausted, yet she hadn't uttered a word of complaint.

In profile, she looked deceptively young and innocent. Her lashes had a pretty, feminine sweep of curl. The soft curve of her cheek made her look almost delicate when you couldn't see the stubborn set of her chin or the iron determination in her eyes.

She was a paradox, to be sure, one that challenged him more than any woman had done for several years now. Off-limits, he reminded himself sternly, turning his gaze back to the road.

Chapter 3

«
^
»

T
hey reached
Hendersonville
just as the sun was setting. Rianna gave him directions to a small, private storage unit. Once there, she produced a key to unlock one of the garage stalls. He lifted the overhead door and triggered an automatic light switch. They did a quick check of the space, and then she climbed into a small car and started the engine. Kyle stepped aside while she backed out of the narrow space.

Now it was decision time. He could either send her on her way alone or break his self-made promise not to get more deeply involved. Even as he cursed his own streak of chivalry, he knew there really wasn't any choice. Call him a chauvinist and a fool, but he couldn't desert her while she was being hunted by the likes of Haroldson. Despite his disapproval of her methods, she was trying to bring the other man to justice.

As soon as she'd cleared the building, he hopped into the truck and drove it into the storage unit. After grabbing their bags, he pulled the door back down and secured it. He'd planned to drive the rental back to
Texas
, but he'd have to take care of it later. Now it could be recognized.

When Rianna approached to relock the storage unit, their gazes tangled and awareness crackled between them. Her expression softened with gratitude. The slight chink in her tough-guy armor stabbed him with unreasonable pleasure, but he stiffened himself against the emotion.

"I promised Sullivan I'd stick with you until you were safe," he said, making light of his decision.

She nodded, accepting without comment. When she moved close enough to grab her bag from him, every hair on his body reacted to her warmth and scent. He clenched his fists to keep from touching her, and searched for something to break the tension.

Turning, he took a good look at their new transportation. Then he swore. "Pink? You expect us to hide in a pink car?"

"It's mauve," she insisted. "And it's perfect. Who'd ever believe we were on the run in a mauve economy car?"

He grumbled, but couldn't argue the logic. Neither Haroldson nor the FBI would be searching for a compact sedan.

"I'll drive," she said as she headed for the driver's side and stowed her bag in the back seat. "You have to be getting tired, and I'm used to driving in the mountains."

He didn't argue, just moved to the passenger side and threw his bag in beside hers. The space was cramped, the bucket seat small, but he slid it back as far as it would go and strapped
himself
in. She did the same, and they were on their way again.

Hendersonville
was little more than a crossroads with a couple of streetlights. Traffic was minimal. They found a convenience store, made use of the bathrooms and filled a thermos with coffee.

Rianna bought a variety of supplies, making him wonder where she planned to take them. Another safe house? A rental? The home of a friend or family member? He hoped it was someplace he could safely leave her and head back to
Texas
with a clear conscience.

She stood by while he used a pay phone to call Sullivan's private number. There was no answer, so he left a short, terse message on the answering machine:

"
Blaine
's your mole. We're on the run, but we lost our tail and Phantom is okay."

Though rarely comfortable with another driver, Kyle climbed into the passenger seat, and Rianna drove back onto the highway. He remained tense for the first few miles, but soon realized that she could handle the car with the same ease she did everything else. Was there no end to her talents? He relaxed a little, deciding to pry some information out of his cohort.

"Sullivan told me you were in deep, but he didn't hint at how deep. My reaction to your identity could have gotten us both killed."

"Rookie mistake," she taunted.

The barb stung, but Kyle knew he deserved it. "Retiree mistake," he corrected sharply.

"Whatever."

Her voice held a teasing note, making him wonder if superwoman might have a sense of humor.

"How'd you manage a marriage proposal?"

She hesitated briefly, but then explained. "Gregory wants legitimacy and the image of a normal, healthy lifestyle. I played the part of an impoverished but highly eligible socialite with a pedigreed background."

"The perfect bait?"

Her features tightened mutinously, making him realize how disparaging his tone had sounded.

"It worked."

The succinct reply held a touch of hurt and made him feel like a heel. He cursed himself for not being more diplomatic. She'd been under a tremendous amount of strain, yet it bugged him to think of any woman offering herself as bait to a man with so few scruples. Her deception would be all the more personal and galling to an egomaniac like Haroldson.

Was she a total rebel? Some power-hungry female who enjoyed living on the edge? A lunatic who thrived on danger? Hadn't she realized she'd be flirting with certain death if he ever got his hands on her again?

A mental image of Haroldson touching her made Kyle grind his teeth. He didn't want his protective instincts roused, yet she kept getting under his skin.

He had to ask. "Why did you move in with the guy?"

"I had to have unlimited access to the estate without him watching my every move. I tried for weeks while we were dating, but finally decided there was no other way."

Kyle made an effort to sound curious rather than accusing. "So why you? Why would any woman put herself in such a dangerous, compromising situation? Just to prove yourself with the agency?"

The silence stretched until he thought he'd pushed too far. Finally, she responded in a tight voice.

"We all have our crosses to bear, Tremont. I have my reasons, but they have nothing to do with proving myself or advancing my career. I can't be bought, and I'm not motivated by greed or glory, so that's all you need to know."

He cursed the fact that her passionate response only served to make him more curious.

"How about a change of subject," he suggested.

"Okay by me," said Rianna. "Why don't you tell me about
yourself.
Where's home for you now? That's not classified information, is it?"

"Far from it." He remembered how well-informed Sullivan had seemed about his current lifestyle. "I live in
Texas
, not too far from
El Paso
."

The small bit of casually supplied personal information caused a slight relaxing of her rigid posture. Her shoulders sagged a little, and he wondered how she was handling the unrelenting stress.

"I've always been curious about
Texas
but I've never been there," she said, then asked tentatively, "Is that where you grew up?"

"I grew up everywhere, I was a military brat."

The urge to see her at ease had him offering details about his private life. "Both my folks were Air Force officers. We moved around a lot, but I spent my early years and most of my summer vacations with Granddad Tremont in
Texas
. He was a craftsman. I inherited his knack for working with wood, and his home. I moved back there when I retired from Uncle Sam's employ."

His granddad had also been a decorated Second World War veteran. From the time Kyle was old enough to listen, he'd heard tales of the war, the cost of freedom, and a man's duty to serve his country. They'd watched old movies and cheered when justice triumphed over evil. He'd hung on every word of his granddad's lectures, vowing to live by the same high principles. He'd taken it all to heart—but it had nearly cost him his soul.

"Did your parents retire to
Texas
, too?" she asked.

Her tone sounded wistful, and he studied her profile. What did her family think of her career? Maybe she didn't have anyone. That might explain why she'd been willing to risk her life for a job.

"Dad died about four years ago, and Mom remarried. She and her new husband are stationed in
Germany
right now."

"Sounds like she's really dedicated to the service."

"Yep, that's how I was raised. Everything's right or wrong, black or white, with no in-betweens. That's why I got fed up with the FBI."

"Too many shades of gray?" she asked in a tone that suggested she really understood.

"Yeah, way too much gray."

They were quiet for a few miles, each lost in thought, and then she spoke again. "Donald said you left because you lost a partner and blamed the agency. Is that true?"

Kyle stared out the window, watching the scenery flash past as his memories fixed on Margie. She'd been more than a partner. So much more. Impotent rage still churned in him when he dwelled on the unfairness of her death.

"Margie went undercover while I was on leave for Dad's funeral. She went in alone, but with standard backup from the agency. She understood the risks."

Logically, Kyle knew he might not have been able to save Margie, but emotionally, he still felt responsible for not being there for his lover and friend. After years of trying, he'd finally realized he couldn't be content until the man responsible for her death was brought to justice.

Rianna broached her next question softly and cautiously. "The records suggest that she might have turned bad."

"That's a filthy lie!" Kyle snarled, making her jump and go tense again.

He tempered his next words, but they still quivered with underlying fury. "That's what pisses me off the most. An agent gives her life for her country, and what does she get in return? A damn blight on her record? Rumors that she was on the take? That's why I hate the
freakin
' politics. The FBI lost an agent, so they try to save face by suggesting she's the one at fault!"

A thick silence fell in the car, but the unbridled strength of his emotion pulsed between them, intimately binding them in its intensity. Kyle took a deep breath, uncurled the fingers he'd fisted, and forced himself to relax again. It was futile to give in to the long-simmering frustration.

His loss of control unnerved him and made him realize he was bone-tired. Otherwise, he wouldn't be wasting time and energy on useless venting.

Rianna spared him a glance. "That's the gray part you hated so much?" she asked quietly.

"Enough to make me call it quits."

She nodded, and something about the small, supportive action clutched at his gut. It had been a long time since anyone had really cared or understood his feelings. He needed to shut her out before she had a chance to undermine all his good intentions.

"I think I'll take a nap."

* * *

Rianna kept her attention on the winding, mountainous road, but stayed alert to every move and sound her passenger made. Tremont reclined his seat, stretched out his legs and crossed his arms over his chest. Finally, he settled his long, lean body in the tight confines.

The tension in the car eased along with him, like the cleansed calm after a storm.

"Sure you're all right to drive?" he asked, tipping the bill of his hat over his face.

"Positive," she said, still too wired to relax. "I rested earlier."

"It's been thirty-six hours for me. I could use some shut-eye."

"I imagine you could. Will it bother you if I listen to cassettes?" Music was one of her greatest passions, probably because it was a continual, no-risk pleasure that warded off loneliness. "Our radio reception won't be very reliable for a while."

"Music doesn't bother me unless it's that rap stuff."

"No rap or heavy metal, I promise."

"Glad to hear it."

There was just a hint of teasing in his tone. It surprised and warmed her, so she responded in kind. "Then, go to sleep. If I get drowsy, I'll wake you."

"Do that."

His comment sounded more like a command. Rianna shook her head, but didn't respond. Men, she thought, they always want to be the ones in charge. She recognized and could tolerate the attitude as long as it suited her purposes.

A half-hour outside of
Hendersonville
, she heard his breathing turn slow and steady. The sound of his soft snoring was strangely comforting, which worried her. It made her wonder at her own reactions to the FBI legend.

She'd been shocked by her physical response during the brief moments she'd spent in his arms on the dance floor. She'd held her own emotions under rigid control for so long that she'd begun to feel like a zombie. The sting of attraction had been so alien that she almost hadn't recognized it. Now that she had, it had become an unwelcome complication.

Being cooped up in their current tight quarters stirred her senses again. Heat radiated from Tremont, enveloping her. His sheer size and stature tugged at something elementally feminine in her, something she couldn't quite analyze.