Authors: L. J Charles
TENSION DRAINED FROM KAIMI, AND
she gasped the first full breath since she’d found Jayme outside her door. She plopped back on the bed and studied the steady, continuous motion of the overhead fan. Dark blades against a white ceiling. Simple. Basic. And a total contrast to the mess her life had become. She wanted to have sex with Jayme, wanted to love him in every way possible, but what if she freaked out? What if the simplest touch sent her into a screaming, sobbing fit? It would scare him, maybe even screw up their lovemaking forever. She had to get a grip.
This was Jayme.
Her belly rumbled, an insistent reminder that all she’d eaten today were a couple of energy bars. And the food she’d ordered still smelled good, even if it was cold by now. She rolled to her feet and arranged the covered bowl of feijoada and rice in the center of the desk, poured half the glass of Brazilian cabernet into one of the hotel-supplied paper cups, and placed the napkin, fork and spoon next to the bowl. They’d have to share.
Standing back, she surveyed her efforts. Maybe neither one of them was ready for sex, but a little romance would go a long way to bridge the six-month gap in their relationship. She wandered around the room, turning off lights until there was nothing but a soft glow from the desk lamp. City lights lent a sparkle to the view from the picture window, and she could almost imagine their evening had become a lover’s tryst rather than the epicenter of a brewing political nightmare. Yes, she’d go with the romantic interlude option. The first genuine smile she’d felt in months touched her lips with the seductive promise of happiness.
Jayme was in her shower. Naked. Wet. She peeked around the partly open door. Too steamy to see anything, not that she was into voyeurism, but maybe a moment of ogling would help to ease her back into sharing her body with a man. Key word—sharing.
The shower shut off, and a few minutes later Jayme strolled into the bedroom in a t-shirt and boxers, vigorously towel-drying his dark red hair. He had thick, wavy locks that begged to be touched, and her fingers itched with the need. That had to be a good sign, didn’t it? Kaimi cleared her throat, chasing away errant thoughts of fondling the man who would be her life mate. She wasn’t ready. Knew she wasn’t, but darned if her hormones weren’t refusing to get the message. “I set supper out for us, but we’ll have to share the bowl of stew and the napkin. You get first choice of utensils. Fork or spoon?”
He tossed the towel on the floor in the bathroom, and ran both hands through his still-damp hair. “Uh, fork?” There was a definite ‘does it matter?’ underlying his answer.
Kaimi smiled. “Okay. We can switch it up. Trade off using the fork for solid bites and the spoon for saucy bites.” Damn. She was motor-mouthing.
He stepped so close to her that only the scent of hotel soap separated them, and then he touched her cheek with the back of his hand. “I love you, Kaimi Maliu. Somehow, some way, we’ll work through this and come out stronger for it.”
It was a promise. The best one he could have made, and it changed…everything.
She backed up half a step, just enough to take both of his hands in hers. “Your, ah, almost-proposal earlier was interrupted, and I’m glad, because with my crazy psychic genes, and recent history, with the baggage I’m bringing into our relationship, it should be me who does the proposing. And you should have the choice to accept or decline. Jayme Grady, I love you with every part of my heart and soul. I offer you my love and my life. Through good times and bad, I’ll stand beside you and support you in every way I can. Will you be my life mate?”
His eyes turned dark, and he swallowed. Oh, God was he going to refuse her? She looked down, not wanting to see a refusal.
“I would be,” his voice cracked, “honored to share your love and your life, and
I
promise to stand beside you and support you in every way
I
can. I’m bringing my fair share of baggage into our commitment as well, you know. This is about us facing life together.”
Relief, joy, elation—things she hadn’t experienced for a long time—burst through her. She tipped her head back up, lifting her lashes. “I have a plan. I’ll share it with you while we eat, okay?”
“A plan would be good.” A loud, insistent growl from the region of his stomach punctuated the sentence.
JAYME FORKED A BITE OF
stew and rice, popped it in her mouth, and watched Kaimi savor the spicy flavor of their meal. He’d never met a more sensual woman, and he wanted to protect her, to hide her away from the world. Not that she’d let him. “So what’s your plan?’
“First we need to kill Xola Muerte. My handler said all traces of Kaimi Maliu had been expunged from existence.” She held his gaze. Steady. “I believe him. The man lives to be thorough, and if we kill off Xola, there won’t be any record of me anywhere. Then we’ll move to Hawaii. My father, Kahuna Aukele, will marry us in a traditional Hawaiian ceremony. There are places on the islands where I can grow the plants I need to continue my research. The biggest problem is that neither of us has any covert training, and here we are stuck in the middle of an undefined black ops mission. Fat lot of good it’s done us to be employed by a high-powered government agency that specializes in clandestine operations.”
Jayme swallowed, a hard lump forming in his throat. “Uh-huh. My training was basic. Nothing remotely useful in a situation like this, but lack of training notwithstanding, I’m damn positive there are a few flaws in your plan. Like, where are we going to get Xola’s body, and how are we going to kill her? I still work for the CIA and they tend to track their officers, so my disappearance is a no-go, and I have to assume that, whoever Fred is, it’s the same deal with him. Oh, and transporting any vegetation on a commercial flight into Hawaii is most likely a crime. My understanding is that the Islands are damn particular about what comes in, and I don’t see you giving up your research to find an antidote to this poison.”
Kaimi nodded, her eyes bright. “True. But the project I was assigned to is dead without me, and that’s not my ego talking. Eamon and Fion aren’t close to working out the necessary calculations to actually create a viable weapon or antidote. Our government wants my formula, and I’m guessing they didn’t really want to share me with England or Ireland. And when we tell them about Eamon and Fion’s plans, they’ll shut down that operation. Why wouldn’t they, if they could have it all for themselves? I think we can get their cooperation on this. There is the tiniest problem, in that I have no way to contact Fred without the satcom link.” She shrugged. “And getting a body to fill in for Xola, of course.”
His woman was a walking time bomb. No two ways about it, marriage to her would be a challenge. “But both of us still have the ability to contact my direct boss and your former boss. And I’d be willing to bet Fred…” He knew his voice put sarcastic quotes around Fred. No way to stop himself. “Your handler will be more than happy to hear from you, especially if you tell him you’ve made progress on isolating the antidote. And you’re right, they might well support us hiding in Hawaii, but I’d feel better if it was similar to a witness protection plan. At least for a while.”
Kaimi scooped the last bite of stew from the dish with a slice of bread, and sighed. “Good stuff, feijoada. Okay. You work on that angle with your boss and my former boss, and I’ll work on the Xola part of the plan. There has to be a way…but if we go through with this, you know we’ll have to sell the rest of our lives to the CIA, and/or the military, as payment for their help. Or be on the run forevermore.”
“It wouldn’t be a bad thing, having Langley behind us. Fred, I’m not so sure about.” The cold beat of forewarning pounded between his shoulder blades.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
JAYME CHECKED THE HALLWAY, THEN
put their dinner tray outside the hotel room door. No one in sight. But he couldn’t shake the itch that they were being watched. He closed the door, locked it, and leaned his forehead against the cool wood. How was he going to protect Kaimi when there were so many factions after that damn formula? If Eamon or Fion had already made contact with potential buyers for the formulas…
The bathroom door opened and he turned to face her, the woman he’d carried in his heart for the past year, six months of it falling in love, and six months of it in separation. Light haloed her, streaking her dark brown hair with gold. “Maybe you should color your hair, change your appearance.” He ran his hand over his face, the two-day beard beginning to itch. “Make it more difficult to spot you. It helps that you have me tagging along ’cause they’ll expect you to be alone.”
Kaimi rubbed her lips together, a sure sign she was going to disagree with him. “Yes. You’re right.”
Huh? Had he lost his touch reading tells? “You agree?”
“I do. You have to go back to work, and I have to disappear into the jungle long enough to get myself killed.” She held her arm up, twisting it this way and that. “I shouldn’t have soaked the cast off. My perfectly normal wrist will be more proof that the formula has healing properties.”
Anger shot through him. “You don’t seriously plan to go back there? And I didn’t hear anything about me going with you in that plan.”
“Later. We can be together after this part is done. There’s no other way. I’ll only be at the campsite for a few minutes, just long enough to prep a backpack, tell Fion I’m heading into the jungle for more of the plants Eamon destroyed, and leave a message with her to pass on to Fred.” Her voice caught on Eamon’s name.
So he’d read the tell correctly. Jayme’s fists clenched into tight knots. He could not lose his temper. Not when Kaimi was still so vulnerable. Words erupted from deep in his gut. “You think I’m going to let you go back into that situation alone?”
Kaimi tilted her head, giving him a sideways glance. “Yelling loud enough to shake the walls isn’t going to settle this, Jayme. I need you to go back to Langley. Someone has to confront my former CIA boss and find out what I need to do to get out of military Spec Ops and back on his roster. We, make that I, don’t have a clue how to find a body to substitute for Xola Muerte, and I’m certainly not going to murder some innocent woman and leave her in the jungle to rot, hoping someone will find her and think it’s me. I have to do this. I’m the only one who can leave the trail leading to my demise.”
Determination put steel in her words, and his stomach hollowed out. She was right. With other countries involved, and the truth completely shrouded in politics, Muerte’s death had to be as authentic as possible. “How are you going to kill Xola?”
Kaimi sank into the nearest chair. “I know that area of the jungle better than anyone other than the indigenous people. Before I hike in, I’ll make a big deal about being despondent because of Eamon’s assault. Fion will track me because she desperately wants to know where the purple-leafed plants are growing. I’ll lose her, hide out for a day, and then circle around and leave traces of the mixture the natives use for euthanasia where she’ll be sure to find it. When she can’t find the plants, she’ll think I’ve given up on creating the antidote, put that information together with my emotional inability to recuperate from Eamon’s attack, and assume I offed myself.”
His brain hit overload with the details of Kaimi’s plan, and he barely held his anger in check. “You’ve left out a rather big issue. They’ll search for your body.” What was she
thinking
, to put herself in danger? And to face his bastard of a brother alone? No way in hell.
“Um-hmm. I’m counting on it. I think I can talk one of the tribes into helping me create a burial site. They cremate their dead.” She brought her hands up like she was holding a ball. “I’ll just need a pile of ashes, and some kind of marker, something personal but not obvious.”
Jayme crossed his arms, biceps bulging. “I forbid it.”
Kaimi blinked. “You what?”
“I can’t let you do this. Eamon will—”
“Be recuperating from a head injury, or maybe won’t be there at all. Drinking the formula had some effect on his multiple sclerosis. Those muscle spasms were severe enough to make him scream in pain, not that he didn’t deserve it, but Fion heard him yelling. She mentioned airlifting both of us out of the camp, and I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Eamon’s already in a hospital here. Oh, God. Maybe Unimed. Maybe we were there at the same time.” She hugged herself.
If Kaimi was right, he should find Eamon and…no, much as he wanted to beat the crap out of his brother, doing it in a hospital would just get him locked in a Brazilian jail. Not a good move.
Kaimi was talking. Damn, he’d probably missed something important.
“…fake ID so I can travel, and some money. I’ll need them to get out of the country after I’ve seen to my death and burial. Hey, you’re a Scot. How did Eamon end up working for G2?”
Her arms were loose at her sides, but the change in posture wasn’t enough proof she’d be able to face Eamon. “Same way I ended up at the CIA. Moved here and worked to get my citizenship. Eamon has always been rebellious, and in his youth longed to be part of the IRA, so it was fulfilling a dream for him, I’d guess.” He touched her cheek, felt her skin damp against his fingertips. Damn it all. Silent tears. “The thought of him being in Manaus scared you, made you sick. I could see it in your face. How can you possibly think you’ll be able to face him with only Fion Connor to run interference?” He hated to hit her with reality, but he had to stop this crazy plan before it was too late.