Undercover Virgin (5 page)

Maybe a compact car wasn't such a good idea, but she hadn't given a thought to prospective passengers when she'd bought it. She'd always been something of a recluse, and her lifestyle didn't allow much time for men or long-term relationships. Her greatest strength was the ability to function in any given situation while maintaining emotional distance—protected in her own insular little world.

So why was she having such a strong reaction to this man?

His service record had fascinated her from the beginning—dedication to duty coupled with a renegade personality. He'd been both praised and damned by his peers, but his devotion to job and country had never been in doubt. The fact that Donald Sullivan trusted him implicitly was testimony enough to his integrity.

That didn't mean she fully trusted him. She'd been alone for too many years, fiercely independent, working toward one goal with steadfast, obsessive determination.

Did she find Tremont attractive because he represented an end to her self-imposed isolation? The light at the end of the long, dark tunnel? Or because he represented all that she'd given up
to accomplish
her goal?

She was twenty-eight and had bypassed the usual coming-of-age flirtations—the dating games and variety of partners most people took for granted. She'd never trusted any man with her heart or her body, and didn't plan to start now.

As a teenager, she'd had a serious crush on an upperclassman. Her family had been in the witness protection program because her dad testified against his former boss, Gregory Haroldson. They had feared their location had been compromised and wanted to move, but she'd begged to stay for the high school prom. It had cost her mom, dad and brother their lives. Since then, she hadn't let anyone get too close, nor had she let anyone interfere with her quest for justice.

To Gregory, she'd been a possession, a means to an end, just another collector's item. She'd told him she wouldn't have sex until they were married. It had been a condition of their engagement, and he'd agreed. He had other women, but they were more than welcome to his amorous advances.

Men like Tremont—handsome, smart and reeking of sex appeal—usually had a bevy of women vying for attention. He could even have a wife or lover or significant other. She glanced at his left hand. He didn't wear a wedding ring, but that could be for any number of reasons. Why hadn't she thought to ask when he'd been talking about his family?

It annoyed her that she'd missed the opportunity to pry some more. He'd been unexpectedly forthcoming about his parents, his dead partner, and his grievance with the agency. His exhaustion had probably contributed to his candor, but it wouldn't hurt to give it another try when he woke.

Rianna gazed into the unending darkness of the mountains, broken only by her headlights and an infrequent passing car. For the most part, the skies were cloudy with random glimpses of a star-studded sky. The slivered moon did little to illuminate the winding, ascending road.

She didn't mind the darkness. Her thoughts were equally dark. Over the next couple hours, she reviewed the past six months in her mind—the conversations she'd overheard, the records she'd unearthed and the security she'd breached. With her testimony, they could put Gregory Haroldson behind bars for the rest of his life.

It had taken every ounce of courage she possessed and a strength born of necessity to carry out the assignment. Pretending to accept his proposal and moving into his home had taken nerves of steel, but she'd sworn to make him pay for destroying her family. That pledge had seen her through the worst of it.

In her mind's eye, she projected the image of her mother, dad and brother. It was a vision that comforted her in times of extreme stress. They'd been the axis of her world until Gregory Haroldson had ordered their deaths. If she'd been a little stronger, a little wiser, or a better person, she could have prevented what happened. The knowledge ate at her like a disease. The only way she knew to counteract the guilt was to make Haroldson pay for his crimes.

No jury in the country would fault her for the engagement deception. Not once they heard the whole truth. She and Donald were banking on that fact. There was no way their undercover operation could be labeled entrapment. Haroldson's corruption dated back too many years to afford him that defense.

We have him. We have him. We have him
. The litany ran through her mind like the constant spinning of the car's wheels.
We have him. We have him.

When Rianna realized she was becoming mesmerized by the sound of her thoughts, she reached out and touched Tremont's arm. Heat and muscle. The warmth of another human being. The comfort it offered unnerved her a little because it was so unexpected. It was a pleasure she rarely enjoyed with anyone but her adoptive parents. The contact soothed her, subduing the painful turbulence of her memories.

Her passenger stirred, tilted his hat back and glanced up at her. She watched him in her peripheral vision, feeling her own body come awake with tingling alertness as he uncoiled his arms and straightened in his seat.

They'd reached the peak of the mountains, shrouded in late-night fog. She dimmed her lights to cut through the haze, and then spoke to Tremont.

"There's a roadside rest area a few miles ahead. I thought we might get out, take a break and stretch our legs. I'm starting to get numb."

"Sounds good," he mumbled.

His voice was so low and husky and incredibly sexy that it snapped her senses to alertness. A tremor of reaction tingled along her spine. It was a quick fix to her lethargy.

"Any of that coffee left?"

"About a cupful, but it's only lukewarm." She handed him the thermos, then wrapped her fingers around the steering wheel.

"I want to try and reach Donald again if the pay phone's working at the rest area." She'd already decided to call, but threw out the comment for conversation's sake.

"I don't mind waking him in the middle of the night. I hope he's sound asleep. I owe him one." After all, Sullivan had called him at
four a.m.
to request his help.

"Even if someone traces the call, there's no way to pinpoint our exact location," she expanded. "Once we clear the mountains, we could go in any direction."

"Do you have a specific destination in
Kentucky
or is it just an unlikely spot for someone to find?"

Rianna deliberated, but then decided to trust him even further. "I'm familiar with the
Cumberland
Lake
area, so that's where I'm headed."

"A resort lake?"

"Miles and miles of man-made lake. It's all buried in a deep valley between jagged, boulder-lined hills topped with a thick wall of evergreen trees."

"A nice place to get lost?"

"That's what I'm hoping." She wanted nothing more than to disappear, to fade into the background after months of constantly being in the spotlight and on display.

The rest area was nearly deserted as they pulled to a stop in the parking lot. Rianna climbed from the car, grabbed her bag and headed for the rest room with Tremont close beside her. They parted ways inside the utilitarian concrete structure.

She used the toilet in the women's room, splashed water on her face at the sink, brushed her teeth and restored some order to her hair. It took a while, but she managed to tame some of the spiky tufts of the punk hairstyle. The result wasn't very flattering, but it was a whole lot less noticeable. The last thing she wanted to do at this point was draw attention to
herself
.

Feeling more human, she rejoined Tremont near the pay phone. He'd freshened up, too. His hair was damp and a shade lighter, evidence of his attempt to wash out the dye. He'd shaved off the mustache, which drastically changed his looks. Rianna's admiring gaze traced the smooth curve of his lips. A firm, sexy mouth, she thought, before quickly redirecting her thoughts.

He'd already dialed the number and was greeting Sullivan when she stepped closer. Their gazes met, and she was taken aback by the crystal-clear blue of his eyes. He'd shed the dark contacts, altering his looks even more. The clarity of his steady gaze caused her to shiver. It felt as though he could see right into her soul, and she knew it wasn't a very pure place.

Tremont turned the receiver so that they could both hear.

"I got your earlier message," said Sullivan. "But
Blaine
's dead. Killed by Hoskins. According to him,
Blaine
pulled a weapon and tried to shoot at you when you left the safe house. They scuffled over the gun and
Blaine
was fatally shot."

Kyle and Rianna exchanged frowning glances, neither sure what the latest twist could mean.

"You'll be watching Hoskins?"

"For sure, and we'll do some serious checking on
Blaine
's record. I'll personally interrogate everyone he's worked with."

"When are you having Haroldson arrested?" asked Tremont.

"First thing Monday morning, but there's a glitch. His lawyers will demand he be released on bail, and there's a good chance we won't be able to keep him long."

"What about his flight risk?" insisted Rianna, her heart sinking at the word
glitch
.
Gregory wouldn't want to leave his little empire or the
U.S.
, but once he realized how damning the evidence was against him, he had the money and connections to disappear. "I thought once we had him jailed, we could keep him there indefinitely."

"I did, too, but as soon as you disappeared today, he made a public announcement that you'd been kidnapped. He's conducting a media circus, featuring himself as the devastated fiancé who's bravely coping with a great tragedy."

The information had Kyle and her staring at each other in disbelief.

"So that's his master plan," she whispered. "He wants the world to believe I've been kidnapped. That way he gains a lot of sympathy without having to deal with me himself."

"He also gains the means to get us permanently out of his hair," Tremont added grimly. "That's why it was so easy. He's been playing us all along. If we turn up dead, he'll have an alibi, someone to blame for your murder. Then, if I'm conveniently killed by one of his men, the murder will seem justified."

"You're probably right, but that won't help him against the indictment," said Sullivan.

"He's not aware of that yet," she reminded. "We're still the only ones with access to that information, aren't we?"

"Yes, and that has to stay a secret until I get the arrest and search warrants. If not, there's a risk of him fleeing. Meanwhile, he's playing the media for all it's worth. I'll have to publicly acknowledge your identity or
risk having a judge release
him on bail," explained Sullivan.

"How
bad's
the risk for Phantom if you expose her identity?" Tremont asked. "Haroldson must know she's a federal agent by now."

"Even if he does, it won't keep him from putting a contract out on both of you. Her disappearance threatens her standing with the bureau, since we don't have her in protective custody. If I can't verify her
whereabouts, that
leaves us without a witness who can support the indictment."

"You're suggesting we come to D.C.?"

"Are you staying with her?"

"I said I would."

Tremont's tone was getting harsher by the minute. Rianna studied his fierce expression and wondered what concerned him most—the risk to her safety, the risk of weakening their case or the thought of prolonging his own involvement. It worried her that she was beginning to care about his motives.

Sullivan took his time answering. "No. I'll swear I know where she's being held. You two disappear for a few days until we see how this is going to play out. Keep in touch with me through this number. If I'm forced to produce a witness, we'll worry about additional security then."

They ended the call and Tremont replaced the receiver. Only then did Rianna realize how close the two of them were standing. Her right shoulder and arm were pressed against his chest, the heat of him permeating the thin layers of her clothes. It seemed so natural, yet disturbing. She had an unprecedented urge to press closer, and that wouldn't do at all.

Once they stepped apart, she felt a chill and shivered.

"You're cold. We need to get back in the car," he insisted, and surprised her by wrapping an arm around her as they moved toward the parking lot.

Her first instinct was to shift from the warmth of his touch. She didn't want to seem weak or needy, but she was cold and tired and trying to ward off an emotional collapse. She'd been warned by bureau psychologists about a dramatic letdown after an undercover assignment.

Maybe she'd be wise to accept a little impersonal support. Just as long as it remained impersonal. So far, she and the renegade retiree were making a pretty good team.

Kyle offered to drive, but Rianna insisted that she'd rather continue until they were through the mountains. She drove while he caught a few more hours of rest. Then they exchanged places, but she still wasn't able to sleep.