You are Mine (4 page)

Jonathan grunted. “Aren’t the FBI and
several American municipal police departments still after you? And
me too by association?”

Alexander nodded. “Yes, as is GLEA and
others. But I’ve come to a conclusion. As they will always be after
me, I might as well enjoy myself and grow the business while they
try to find me. I realized that I let that close call back in
Indiana push me where I took caution too far. It’s time I get back
to work. I’ve been wanting to expand, and Guerrera is just the
person I need to help me to do it.”

Jonathan slowly repeated, “GLEA…that’s the
Global Law Enforcement Agency, right?’

Alexander bit back a sigh of impatience and
just looked at his brother. They’d had this same conversation at
least a dozen times. Why Jonathan could never remember that GLEA
was the acronym for the agency was beyond his comprehension and
frustrating. He stared some more. “I dislike repeating myself,
Jonathan.”

Jonathan flushed some but continued, “And
Ida? Will she be joining us?”

Alexander thought about his paramour. Most
times he believed she was more trouble than she was worth, but she
had been quite the little helpful moll during his last caper on
American soil. Even though the kidnapping hadn’t worked and he
hadn’t even come close to getting the artist, Ida had still done
her part. “I certainly can’t leave her behind,” he finally said in
answer to his brother’s question.

“And do you still want the artist? Caroline
Singleton -- oh, wait. She’s gotten married, hasn’t she? Her name
is Caroline Keenan now.”

Alexander stared at his brother’s bowed
head. Touché, little brother, he thought and then shook his head as
Jonathan tried unsuccessfully to quell his grin. Alexander was sure
his brother didn’t think the spiteful grin was visible because of
the position of his head.
Idiot
. He uncurled the fists he
hadn’t known he’d made until he became aware of the pain of his
nails biting into his palms. Yes, the Singleton woman had gotten
married, that was true, but he wouldn’t let that get in his
way.

He always got what he wanted precisely
because he never let anything get in his way, and he’d never
desired anything as much as he did Caroline Singleton. He was
perfectly aware that the desire had grown into an obsession, but he
didn’t care. The debacle last fall involving the botched kidnapping
of her friends had not only been the second failure in his attempt
to obtain her, but it had been only the second failure of his
entire career.

He leaned back in his chair and steepled his
fingers under his chin. He’d lost men on both his first and second
attempts to get the woman. He’d lost money, property, valuables and
he was sure some would even say some of his sanity. The woman had
become his Holy Grail. She represented his failures, was the bane
of his existence and he wanted her. He didn’t know how long he’d
keep her, but that didn’t matter. He wanted her, and neither her
marriage, nor her bodyguard would stand in his way. He
would
have her.

***

ARLINGTON, Virginia

“What the hell is going on with Paragon,
Coop?”

Cooper Stratford pinned his boss with an
impatient look. “She hasn’t checked in yet, sir, so I don’t have an
answer for you.”

Ben Crawford sighed and eased himself into
one of the chairs in front of Coop’s desk. “I know you think I’ve
become a pest regarding her, but I had my doubts about her from the
start.”

Coop snorted. “It was your idea to recruit
her in the first place.”

The older man frowned and in a pathetic
voice, said, “Yes, well, a momentary lapse on my part. A man of my
advanced years is allowed them.”

Coop shook his head. “God save me from old
men on the verge of retirement. You think it’s a license to feel
sorry for yourselves.”

Ben grunted and went back to his original
concern. “She was supposed to have checked in ten minutes ago.”

“I’m well aware of that,” Coop said, not
bothering to take his eyes off his laptop screen.

“Is that all you have to say?”

Black eyes flashing with more impatience,
Coop looked up at the man he’d known his entire life. He’d been his
father’s best friend. “What more do you want me to say, Uncle Ben?
You know as much as I do.”

“And you’re not worried?”

Coop lowered his eyelids so the other man
wouldn’t see his anger and the fear he was beginning to feel. He
would kill Paragon when he saw her next. He knew the little
harridan well enough now to know that she was just spiteful enough
to delay making her first check-in on her first assignment, thereby
achieving her never-ending goal to piss him right the fuck off.
“She’ll call in,” was all he said.

“We’ll give her one more hour, shall
we?”

“And then what?” Coop asked sarcastically.
“She’s out there alone, remember? It was your idea to do it that
way.”

“Yes, well, it will prove if she’s got what
it takes, won’t it? If an agent can’t fly solo, then she shouldn’t
be an agent should she?”

Coop said nothing. They’d argued about this
when Ben had first broached the subject of embedding Paragon. He’d
wanted to send backup, but Ben wouldn’t hear of it.

“I know as her handler you have concerns
about letting your little birdling fly the nest for the first time,
but having trained her yourself, you would know as well as anyone
what she’s capable of.”

Again, Coop remained silent, knowing from
past experience that silence was usually the best policy when Ben
was working out a problem of his own making.

“Still, she is only twenty-years old, and
the Guerreras are a monstrous family.”

“I’m sure they even eat their young,” Coop
muttered without looking up.

“I will say, though,” Ben went on as if Coop
hadn’t spoken, “that I haven’t seen an agent with talent like
Paragon’s since we brought you in. By God, that girl shoots as if
she came out of the womb with a gun in her hand and sniper skills
coded in her DNA.”

Coop reluctantly agreed with him. “True.
I’ve never seen anyone with such ice-cold precision.”

“Aside from you, of course,” Ben said slyly.
“And I watched her in training a couple of times. She’s no slouch
in hand-to-hand. She kicked some serious ass.”

Coop shook his head at the other man’s
choice of words. He was clearly unaccustomed to using slang, but
yes, Paragon was also excellent at hand-to-hand combat.
But I
swear to God if I don’t hear from her in the next five minutes, I’m
going to fly down to Mexico and do some serious ass-kicking myself.
Hers will be the first.

As if on cue, his phone rang loudly beside
him. He picked up and before he could say anything, a cool, curt
voice snapped, “No time to listen to whining, boss man, so just
keep quiet and listen. I’m in and that’s all that matters. Not only
that, but I’ve got some news that you, even with all your vaunted
spy equipment, had no clue about.”

“Stop being an obnoxious little snit and
tell me what you know. We’ll discuss your punishment later,” Coop
said and was unsurprised when her signature husky chuckle that had
made more than one agent lose his footing during training, poured
over the lines.
Cocky little shrew
.

Chapter Three

“What are these?”

Caroline turned from the refrigerator to see
what her friend Tracy Adamson was referring to. She held several
sheets of paper in her hand. Caroline grimaced and walked over to
the table with a pitcher of iced tea and two glasses. “
That
is Alexander Brickman. Brian keeps making me study pictures of him
and his people.” She shuddered and eased into a chair. “As if I’d
ever forget what that monster looks like.”

Tracy was still studying the pictures, a
slight frown on her face. “But these are weird looking. They look
like police --”

“Yeah, police renderings. They used some
type of computer program to show him several different ways:
balding, with long hair, short hair, blond, brown, black, with a
mustache, as overweight, etcetera.”

Tracy nodded in understanding. “Because when
he had Jack and me kidnapped, he’d put on weight deliberately.”

“That’s what the FBI and everyone else
thinks, yes. And of course, I’m sure Jack must have told you that,”
she said, referring to Tracy’s fiancé, Brian’s best friend and
former FBI agent and cop, Jacques Winthrop, who now headed his own
security firm.

Tracy shrugged. “Yes, but we try not to talk
about it so much. He realizes how obsessed he was with finding
Brickman. It had become unhealthy.”

“Right. Brian told me how hard it was for
Jack to get over the death of that young junkie he’d helped get
clean when they were both rookies on the CPD.”

“Uh huh. Brickman was the one responsible
for getting her hooked on cocaine once more, and as Jack sees it,
her death, soon after she’d started using again.” Tracy fingered
her twisted hair as she normally did when deep in thought or
worried. Caroline figured it was worry, but sensed it wasn’t around
Brickman, at least not at the moment.

“And how is Jack?” Caroline asked her friend
of almost three decades carefully and avoided the other woman’s
gaze when she snapped her head up to look at her.

“What do you mean?” Tracy asked.

Caroline rolled her eyes in amusement. “I
mean
how is Jack? It’s not a trick question. I haven’t seen
the man in a few weeks after all.”

“Oh, he’s fine,” Tracy said
noncommittally.

Caroline frowned as she watched Tracy now
twist the diamond engagement ring round and round on her finger.
Concerned now, she reached out and put a gentle hand on top of the
long, thin fingers, causing Tracy to look up again. Caroline
studied her friend. She was a slender woman of light brown
complexion with deep set dark eyes, which were currently full of
worry. “What are you afraid of, Trace?”

“I’m not -- ” Tracy stopped the denial,
paused as first uncertainty and then resignation flashed across her
face. She blew out a breath. “Sometimes I hate that you know me so
damned well.”

Caroline quirked a brow. “Quit stalling. I’d
offer you something stronger to drink, but that would just prolong
the agony, so start spilling it, sister.”

Tracy chuckled and shook her head and in a
small voice, “What if it doesn’t work out, Caroline?”

“You mean marriage to Jack, right?”

Tracy snorted. “What else?”

Sighing, Caroline sat back in her chair,
subconsciously cradling her stomach with her right hand. “All I can
tell you, Trace, is that there are no guarantees, but if you love
and trust him, you need to decide if he’s worth taking the plunge
over.”

“Ahhhh! Oh, my God, you’re pregnant aren’t
you?!”

Startled by the near-screech, Caroline sat
up quickly. “Oh, no,” she muttered. “He’ll be in here any second.”
She was tempted to call out that everything was okay, but knew it
would be useless. He’d have to see for himself.

She never heard him approach, but knew he
was there seconds before he appeared. “I’m fine, Jae,” she said
hurriedly before he could rush into the kitchen. She watched as he
narrowed his dark eyes, took in the kitchen -- her position,
Tracy’s position, the windows, the French doors -- nodded in
satisfaction. He then smiled slightly. “As you say.” He turned and
left just as silently as he’d come, his tall frame almost
unnaturally graceful in its movements.

She looked over at Tracy. She’d stopped her
forward motion when Jae had arrived and though was still smiling
from ear to ear, looked confused as to what to do next. Jae tended
to have that effect on people so Caroline smiled and teased, “I
know: what to do, right? Get excited about my pregnancy or discuss
Jae’s almost hypnotic, yet creepy, presence yet again.”

But Caroline’s own smile threatened to
stretch her face wide open and she felt tears sting her eyes as she
let excitement get the best of her. “Yes, I am pregnant! Can you
believe it?”

Tracy was up and around the table in
seconds. She bent and yanked Caroline into her arms. “Oh, sweetie;
that is so awesome! I’m so happy for you two. How far along are
you? When did you know? How’s Brian taking it? I’m the godmother,
right? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Laughing, Caroline hugged her back and wiped
her weeping eyes on Tracy’s shoulder. “One question at a time!
We’re a little more than eight weeks along and we’ve known for a
few weeks. Of course you’re the godmother, and of course Brian’s
treating me like a piece of rare porcelain and is already in love.
And we didn’t tell you or anyone because…well because we wanted to
be absolutely sure because of the last time when we thought we
might be, but weren’t. But how did you know?” she asked as Tracy
sat back down.

Tracy scoffed. “Please. You were sitting
over there cupping your stomach and looking all
I’ve-got-the-baby-Jesus-in-here-y’all, and smiling all beatifically
-- what else could it be?”

Caroline burst out laughing. “You are such a
fool,” she said after she’d wound down to chuckles. “But seriously,
you can’t tell anyone. We haven’t even told our parents.”

“Ohh, but I have to tell Jack! He’s my road
dog. I tell him everything.”

Chuckling again and understanding fully,
Caroline nodded. “All right, but Jack and no one else. We plan to
tell my parents at their anniversary party. Speaking of which, you
can make the final rehearsal, right?” Her brother Lee had planned a
huge blowout for their parents’ thirty-fifth wedding anniversary.
He’d rented out a ballroom at a downtown hotel, and had planned for
three hours of food and entertainment. Caroline, Tracy and other
friends and family would comprise amateur hour.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Tracy assured her now.
“I’d do anything for Mama and Papa Singleton. Are you still nervous
about performing?”