Her Secret Agent Man (4 page)

He looked back at the kid. “Pencil us in for a couple of seats on the first flight tomorrow.”

“You’ve got it, sir. Will you be eating at the lodge tonight?”

Dutch shook his head. “No. We’ll cook for ourselves.”

The young man nodded and left.

Julia remarked, “I hope you meant you’d be cooking, because I burn water if I try to boil it.”

Dutch whistled between his teeth. “Wow. That takes real talent. And yes, I’ll cook supper. Why don’t you go take a hot bath and relax a bit.”

She smiled gratefully at him. The idea of a long, hot soak sounded absolutely wonderful.

Dutch’s voice floated to her out of the kitchen, over the sound of steaming water filling the spa tub and its dozen jets. “I figure we’ve got a couple of days before your tails circle
back into this area to look for us. We’ll stay here until we figure out what we’re doing, and then we can move out.”

He sounded so confident. And what he said did make sense. The ever-present burden of fear lifted from her shoulders a bit. It felt great to relinquish responsibility to someone else. Besides, she didn’t have anyplace else to go.

Dutch ground a touch more pepper into the pasta carbonara and noted the sound of the hot-tub jets cutting off in the bathroom. Perfect. Supper would be ready just about the same time Julia was done primping after her bath.

Eduardo’s banker, huh? Who’d have guessed the bastard would use his own daughter to do his dirty work? But then, maybe it made sense in a sick sort of way. Who else could the guy trust with all his money? Man, he would give his right arm to get a good look at Eduardo’s complete financial records. So would half the federal government. That was the
only
reason he’d agreed to postpone his plans for Julia.

He frowned as he tossed the salad. Why had Julia come to him rather than going straight to more traditional authorities?

He didn’t buy for a minute the idea that he was the
only
person who could keep her safe. Tickling at the back of his consciousness was the disturbing notion that her being here might have something to do with the feelings they’d once shared for each other. As for him, that most certainly had
nothing
to do with why he was here.

If she was on the up-and-up, the FBI or the Treasury Department would be more than happy to keep her safe in return for her information and her testimony. But, his finely honed sense of intuition smelled a rat. She was up to something.

And the best way to lure her out was to bait the trap with what she wanted: his twenty-four-hour protection.

“Wow. That smells amazing.”

He glanced up at Julia as he pulled garlic bread out of the oven. “Hungry?” he asked.

“I haven’t eaten a decent meal in weeks.”

That would explain the unnatural hollowness of her cheeks, the violet shadows under her eyes, the delicacy of her skin. If she ever met his family, his Swedish mother would plow her under with steak, potatoes and thick, hearty stews, griping all the while about putting some meat on her bones. He found her fragile quality appealing, himself. If she were anyone but Julia Ferrare, it would make him feel…protective.

He’d moved the small kitchen table and two chairs into the living room in front of the fire he’d built, and he’d scraped up a half-dozen candles and put them on the table. He dished up the creamy pasta and burned his fingers slicing off hunks of garlic bread for them. But her sigh of appreciation as he seated her at the table was worth the trouble.

“Now,
that’s
romantic,” she breathed.

Cripes.
The last thing he wanted was for her to think he was making a pass at her. To get her to talk more, he’d been going for relaxing, not romantic. Although romantic might have won him the answers he needed from her, he was not going down that road. Not with her. Even if the thin, white cashmere sweater she wore called up vivid images of her barely covered breasts.

He frowned at the cozy table set for two. It
did
look like a seduction scene. Suddenly he felt like a clumsy, oversize bull, tiptoeing around in a cramped china shop.

Hell, let her think what she would. If thinking he’d traded vengeance for romance would make her talk, so be it. He lit the candles, turned off the overhead lights and decanted a glass of wine for her. He waited for her to pick up her fork before he began eating slowly and carefully himself.

The fire hissed quietly and added its flickering golden
light to the glow of the candles. Outside, darkness was falling fast.

“Mmm, a Chilean
carmenére
grape. Is this a La Playa 2000 vintage? I haven’t had this since…”

Dutch carefully kept his expression neutral. Since
when?
And how in the hell did she recognize a rare wine from one of Chile’s most famous vineyards? Last time he checked, she supposedly lived in Switzerland. “A wine connoisseur, are you?” he asked casually. Maybe Chile was where Eduardo stashed his millions.

She shrugged. “Not really. I just used to drink it a lot at…a favorite restaurant of mine.”

He’d bet his next paycheck she’d never drunk a
carmenére
at any restaurant. The old Bordeaux grape was thought to be extinct until just a few years ago when a few vines turned up in Chile. Wine made from its grapes was still exceedingly rare outside that country and coveted by wine collectors. He’d been amazed to find a bottle at a local wine store when he’d arrived in Colorado. He thought back to the intel reports on his foe. Eduardo was a vodka drinker. Hated wine, in fact. Not the kind of guy who’d stock this stuff in his wine cellar.

So, how did Julia know this wine? As tempted as he was to probe for answers, he steered the conversation into less dangerous waters for now. No sense spooking her when she was just starting to relax with him.

Instead, he moved the conversation forward. They talked about everything from religion and politics to her favorite books and the latest movies. Everything except the details that he wanted. He should have been anxious to uncover the facts, but he wasn’t. It was surprisingly easy to talk to her. She was a damn attractive woman. Smart, too. Inspite of her betrayals, he couldn’t ignore her gentle, compassionate personal
ity. Or the incisive sense of humor that prevented her from coming across like a sissy.

The sense of déjà vu in talking to her like this was huge. That black gap in his memory pulled at him again. Had he, in fact, done this before? Had they had romantic little trysts where they traded secrets? Was that how she’d wormed her way into the team’s good graces and led them like lambs to Eduardo’s slaughter?

Tonight, she’d twisted her hair up in a knot on the back of her head, and he kept noticing how long and graceful her neck was. She reminded him of a black swan with her raven hair and dark chocolate eyes. Gradually, as the meal and the wine hit them, her shoulders relaxed and she smiled more often. His gut also began to unclench. Strangely it was getting hard to remember how much he hated her.

Then, without warning, a blindingly bright light flashed in the window. He jumped. But Julia dived for the floor.
A revealing reaction.
Without comment, he knelt beside her and drew her into a protective hug. She came readily, huddling against him like a frightened child. She felt slender and sleek and impossibly soft in his arms.

“Oh God, they’ve found us,” she whispered fearfully against his neck.

“That was the lights on the mountain being turned on for some night skiing. It’s okay.”

“Really?” she asked in a small voice.

“Really.”

“Oh.” A pause. “Then I guess I look incredibly stupid, don’t I?”

He chuckled. “No, but you sure have great reflexes. Frankly, you look like a frightened woman who needs to tell me more about what’s going on with her father so I can protect her from him.”

She picked herself up off the floor and sat down in her chair again before she murmured, “What do you want to know?”

Much better. He spread his napkin out on his lap again and picked up his fork. “Where are Eduardo’s financial records?”

A turbulent jumble of emotions passed through her gaze, but her answer revealed little. “Hidden. They’re safe.”

Not going to play ball, was she? Why would she wait to hand over the documents? What did she have to gain? She was definitely holding out on him. Something else was going on between her and her old man that she wasn’t telling him.

He sat back and took a sip of wine. Well, now. So she was playing games with him. Why wasn’t he surprised? The meal’s relaxing effect evaporated like a drop of water on the surface of the Sun. He
knew
better than to let down his guard around this woman.

If he’d learned one thing from their wide-ranging dinner conversation, though, it was that she was no dummy. He’d have to proceed carefully. Appear to play along with her game. See where it led, and keep his eyes open for the trap before she sprang it on him. He needed more information.

“What kinds of legitimate businesses does Eduardo invest in to hide his assets?” he asked.

She shook her head in the negative. Damn. Better lay on more relaxation. He smiled and refilled her glass of wine. He gazed out at the handful of skiers dotting the slope and sipped his wine while he planned his next move.

He leaned back in his chair and stretched his long legs out more comfortably. Hopefully he looked at ease, even though his gut felt like a wet knot being yanked tighter and tighter.

“Okay, let’s try something easier,” he said lightly. “Why me?”

She studied him for a long time, her eyes black pools of
doubt. Finally she answered, barely louder than a whisper, “Because I trust you.”

The words exploded over him like a sonic boom, and sharp pressure built up in his ears and behind his eyes. He gripped the edge of the table while the now-familiar tidal wave of darkness roared toward him. Instead of fighting it this time, he tried a different tactic. He didn’t grasp for the memories he sensed lingering behind the veil of black. He squashed his curiosity and merely let the moment roll over him and through him in hopes that this time it would pass him by. It worked. Barely.

He cleared his throat, realizing she was frowning at him. Crap. More relaxation. ASAP. “And why exactly do you trust me?”

Her eyebrows knit into a frown. “Shouldn’t that be obvious, given our past?”

Crap. What
was
their past?

She reached across the table and put her hand on top of his. “Are you all right?” she asked in concern, looking him directly in the eyes.

“Hell no, I’m not all right,” he bit out.

She flinched at the lash in his voice, but bravely she didn’t retreat. He wouldn’t have guessed she had such backbone. “What can I do to help?” she asked quietly.

He sighed, the moment of uncontrolled anger past. “Damned if I know.”

Compassion softened her expression until he thought he might crawl right into that sweet, melting gaze of hers. “Don’t worry, Dutch. I know you’ll take great care of me.” She pushed back her empty plate and propped her elbows on the table. “Tonight is about relaxing. Let’s talk about something else. Where did you learn to ski?”

“Montana. Big Sky Country.”

“I hear it’s beautiful. I’ve never been up there.”

He smiled fondly. “It’s God’s own backyard.”

She commented, “Ever consider being a professional skier? You looked pretty fast on that downhill run today.”

Embarrassment warred with his curiosity over just what had happened up there during his blackout. “Did I…” He didn’t quite know how to word it, so he just barged ahead. “Did I say anything, do anything, before I went down that hill?”

“You looked really surprised to see me, which was kind of weird since you were there to meet me. Then you turned and headed straight for the downhill course. I was startled because just about nobody tries it.”

He snorted. “For good reason. I nearly broke my neck out there. Why’d you go down it?”

She looked away, then answered reluctantly, “I was worried about you. I got the feeling you might get into trouble on that run.”

Rather than delve too deeply into her concern for him, which unaccountably made him uncomfortable, he asked, “Where did you learn to ski so well? It’s not like Gavarone has ever seen snow.”

She teased, “We took lots of vacations to Switzerland when I was a kid. And I have an apartment there now.”

Switzerland. As in the home of secure international banking. That was an interesting, albeit not surprising, choice of residence for a woman with money to hide.

She interrupted his speculations. “Hey, you started asking questions again. It’s still my turn.”

“Sorry. What else would you like to know about me?”

“Tell me about Charlie Squad.”

Now,
there
was a touchy question. Where to begin? And how much to say to the daughter of his enemy? “We still do
what we always did. We liaise between the air force and the Special Forces teams from the other branches of the U.S. military. To do that, we’re trained the same way they are and can do a broad variety of special ops missions.”

“Do you still operate in six-man teams where each guy has a particular specialty?”

“Why do you ask?” he retorted.

“I always wanted to know what you did for Charlie Squad. You never told me.”

He smiled without humor. “My specialty’s hard to define. I plan missions. I solve problems…creatively. When we’re stuck, I’m the guy who leads the team through a brainstorming session to figure out how to get unstuck.”

“So, Mr. Thinker. Have you figured out what you’re going to do with me after I hand you everything you want on my father?”

“Of course,” he answered lightly. “I’m going to kill you.”

Her wineglass shattered on the hardwood floor with a musical crash.

O
h God. Oh God, oh God, oh God.

She should’ve known that was what he’d say. But to hear the words spoken aloud. With such calm certainty…

She shuddered. Of course, it wouldn’t really matter if he killed her or not. Once her father decided she was in need of killing, nothing and nobody would stop him. One way or another, her life was forfeit. She’d known that when she’d started this fiasco. But to die at the hands of a man she’d once loved—that was a cruel blow.

He almost acted as if he’d forgotten the way she used to moon over him like a love-struck calf. Was he playing some sort of sick cat-and-mouse game with her emotions? If so, it was working.

Frankly, it was a minor miracle he hadn’t killed her already, regardless of what information she might have on Eduardo. She briefly considered showing him her ace in the hole,
the bit of information she planned to hold until last. But it wasn’t time. Not yet.

I’m going to kill you.

His words tolled like a death knell, announcing her demise. She should cut her losses and walk out that door this second. Except she had nowhere left to go. Contacting Dutch had been her last-ditch attempt to stay alive long enough to save her sister. Did she dare brazen it out with Dutch and pray like crazy he never followed through on his deadly promise? She knelt on the floor and dabbed clumsily at the obscenely red spill of wine with her napkin.

Dutch towered over her with a roll of paper towels. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll get it.”

She sat back on her heels, too rattled to stand. She watched him mop up the wine and pick up the broken pieces of glass. Quick. Efficient. Thorough.

With a last sweep of paper towel across the floor, he announced, “There. All gone.”

Just like her when this was all over. He moved with lethal grace to the kitchen and disposed of the mess. She still hadn’t mustered the strength to stand when he came back. He reached down and pulled her effortlessly to her feet. He looked into her eyes, and somehow she found the strength of will to meet the iron resolve in his sapphire gaze. So. The battle was joined. The rules of engagement were understood. This was a duel to the death. To her death, to be precise.

She shivered and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. His gaze drifted to her neck. And then lower, examining her in leisurely fashion, as if measuring her for a take-down. Everywhere his gaze touched her she burned with icy fire, and her shivers intensified. Thankfully he stepped away, and she remembered to breathe again.

He held her chair for her and she sat down weakly. The
combination of terror and intense awareness made it impossible to look up at him, even though she felt his gaze boring into the top of her head.

“I’m not going to hurt you tonight,” he said abruptly. “You asked for my protection and I’m giving it to you. For now.”

But the day would come when he’d turn on her. She couldn’t bear to think about it. She had to leave him. Now. She’d just have to come up with another plan to save Carina. Hysteria swirled around her in a dizzying haze barely held in check. She was trapped. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

“What’s next on the agenda?” she asked, doing her best to mask her agitation.

He jerked his head toward the bedroom. Her brain skipped like a scratched record. He wanted to go in the bedroom with her? The idea fired her imagination in shocking ways.

He remarked, “You need to relax and get a good night’s sleep. Your nerves are frazzled, and you’re not thinking clearly.”

No kidding. For a second there, she’d thought he meant something else entirely. She’d actually hoped he meant something else.

She went into the bedroom with its stone fireplace, picture windows and huge bed. Four normal-size adults could sleep in the thing. She jumped as she sensed a movement behind her.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “Didn’t mean to startle you. I just need some clothes.” He opened his suitcase, pulled out a sweat suit and headed for the door.

“Where are you going to sleep?” she asked.

“On the couch in the living room.”

She frowned. “It’s not nearly long enough for you. I’ll take the couch. You stay here.”

“Not a chance. Nobody’s getting past me out there. You’re safe tonight. Get some sleep.”

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been truly safe. Even before she escaped her father’s clutches, she’d never felt secure. His enemies, including agents of the various governments he’d flouted, were always waiting to strike. Like the man standing before her now.

“Julia? Are you all right?”

She jerked her attention back to him. He stood so close she could feel the heat radiating off him. No, she wasn’t all right! “I’m fine,” she managed to force out.

His eyes flashed their disbelief, but he merely stepped back politely and said, “Sweet dreams.” His deep voice sent a shiver down her spine. Her cheeks burned.

Startled by the power of her reaction to him, she nodded wordlessly in return. The door closed quietly. She turned away from the knotty-pine panel. Shedding her clothes quickly, she dropped her nightgown over her head. The silk caressed her skin the same sensuous way she imagined his fingers would have if things had been different. She crawled beneath the fluffy down comforter, and its flannel duvet cradled her in gentle warmth.

Restless, she rolled over and stared at the ceiling. Regret pierced her. In another time and place, she’d have loved nothing more than to spend the night with James Dutcher. But it wasn’t meant to be. Their worlds had collided before, ending any chance they might have had now before it even began.

She’d catch a nap for a couple of hours, and then she’d leave. As tempting as it was to let him take care of her, she dared not stay with him. He was too smart. He’d figure out what she was really up to, and when he did, she and Carina were as good as dead.

It was dark and silent when she woke up. The mountain outside the window was a black silhouette against the night sky. The bedside clock said it was 3:20 a.m. Perfect.

She climbed out of bed and, shivering, pulled on clothes. She grabbed Dutch’s car keys from the bureau and her purse, which contained a few toiletries and her all important cash. Having met him again, having seen his intention to kill her, she simply couldn’t stay. She had no right to put Carina’s life further at risk. Her little sister had suffered enough. Julia would find some other way to save her.

Carrying her shoes, Julia eased the bedroom door open and tiptoed to the living room in her socks. A red glow came from the remains of the fire, casting a hellish light in the wide space. She made out Dutch’s long form stretched out on the couch, as magnificent as a dragon sprawled in his fiery lair. Even asleep, danger radiated from him. Holding her breath, she eased across the floor one careful step at a time. Cold seeped through her socks before she finally drew close to the door. She reached cautiously for the knob.

“Going somewhere?”

She jumped violently and spun around. Dutch loomed directly behind her, his expression stony. How in the world had he gotten right up to her without her hearing a thing?

“Yes, as a matter of fact,” she replied bravely.

“Care to tell me where?” Even roughened with sleep, his voice was cool and deadly.

“No, not particularly. I’ve got to get away from my father’s men, and I don’t want to endanger you any more than I already have. I’ll just be going now.” She again reached for the doorknob.

His large hand landed with heavy finality on the door beside her head. “That’s a bad idea,” he murmured. His breath touched her warmly in stark contrast to the chill pouring off him. There it was again. That strange pull between them. Something about this man called out to her, an odd vulnerability within his steel. It made her want to wrap her arms
around him and hold him, even though on another level he scared her to death.

She turned under his arm and stared up at him. His face was an intersecting series of harsh shadows, his eyes pools of black. She ached to reach up and smooth away the frown from his forehead. His fathomless gaze narrowed and sexual awareness abruptly rolled off him. In waves that all but drowned her. His presence was overpowering even though he didn’t move a muscle. He made her feel so small. Fragile. The sensation was thrilling and frightening at the same time. Lord, it was tempting to bury herself in all that strength and masculine appeal. To solve the intriguing mystery that was Jim Dutcher.

“It’s for the best that I go,” she murmured.

“Why’s that?” he asked.

“Do you really have to ask?”

He leaned even closer, his mouth by her ear. His chest all but touched hers, and her breasts tingled at the tantalizing nearness of his body. The lingering remnants of his aftershave smelled warm and sexy.

He murmured in a lover’s endearment, “You’re responsible for my brother’s death. When you called me you had to expect that I’d want to hurt you the same way you hurt me. And it’s not like I came looking for you. But now that you’re here, I’m damn well going to see justice done.”

A icicle of dread speared her. He wanted to hurt her the same way she’d hurt him. Oh. My. God. She’d been right. If he ever found out about Carina, he’d have the perfect tool to do exactly that—kill one sibling for another. She could
never
let him find out about her fight to save her sister! If he did, he’d do whatever it took to get Carina killed. It would be the perfect revenge.

A violent shudder rippled through her.
Pull yourself to
gether!
She dared not give away just how scared she was. He’d leap all over her fear and use it to his advantage.

How could she be so drawn to him one second and so afraid of him the next? It made no sense whatsoever.

His other hand landed on the door beside her head, trapping her between his powerful arms. “What aren’t you telling me, Julia? I need to know everything if we’re going to nail Eduardo before he nails you. What is it?” he demanded softly.

She stared at him in dismay. Busted. As usual, he’d read her like an open book. But now she knew she could never answer that question. Ever. She replied, “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want your help.”

She felt him absorb her refusal to answer like a physical blow. She closed her eyes against the pull between them. She felt like a paper clip in the presence of a high-powered magnet. The haven of his care, the companionship of another human being in her solitary flight from death, his sheer masculine sex appeal were darned near irresistible.

She understood his anger. Could accept it. But she had to get over the past. Had to let go of the feelings for him she’d carried around inside her for all these years like a secret pearl hidden deep within the closed shells of her heart.

She jumped when he trailed a finger down the length of her neck. His voice caressed her like black velvet. “You look like a caged swan. Give me a chance, my desperate Odile. I’ll keep you safe.”

She blinked at the reference to the black swan from the ballet
Swan Lake
who was tragically manipulated by her evil father. An apt analogy. She let out a slow breath. Even his intelligence was seductive. How was she supposed to get over him?

He pushed away from the door and took a step back.
“Come to bed. It’s late and your feet must be frozen. Let’s get them warmed up.”

There it was again. That natural compassion he lapsed into whenever he forgot to be furious at her. It sent her pulse pounding completely out of control. She shivered, but not from the icy cold seeping between her toes. The inevitability of doom settled around her, but she was powerless to fight it. She followed him back to the bedroom and let him tuck her into bed like a child.

But she lurched when he started to climb in beside her. “What are you doing?” she exclaimed.

“Keeping an eye on you. I’m a very light sleeper. If you get out of bed again, it’ll wake me up.”

“But—”

“No buts. I’m not letting you run away before Eduardo’s behind bars.” His voice rang with hard finality.

She subsided against her pillow. A tiny corner of her heart sighed in relief. Was she relieved he’d made her stay because he’d protect her, or was it something else entirely? Something to do with the overwhelmingly male vibes rolling off him as he lay beside her, and the way something instinctive and female inside her responded? She lay there for a long time, staring at the ceiling, beside a man she wanted desperately. A man who had the reason and the resolve to kill her.

What in the world was she supposed to do now?

Dutch paused, listening to the raucous night sounds of the jungle around him. He slid forward a few more steps and paused again, careful not to disrupt the deafening chorus of noise. He was early for the rendezvous with the informant. With Julia.

Even thinking her name sent his heart pounding deep and hard like a bass drum. A totally unprofessional reaction, but
she was so beautiful she took his breath away. Every guy on the team had a crush on her, whether they admitted it or not. Hell, even Captain Folly made a point of shaving and putting on a clean uniform whenever he had to meet her.

Dutch grinned. But he was the one she made eye contact with. The one she smiled at shyly. Because she trusted him, he was the one who got to coordinate with her as the sting against her father drew near.

He still had a hard time believing she would help set up her own father. But then, her old man was an incredible bastard.

Eduardo Ferrare was a formidable criminal whose illegal empire had reached far enough into the United States to draw the attention of the federal government. A decision had been made to take him out, and Charlie Squad had been sent to Gavarone to do the job.

He pushed aside a giant fern and peered out at the path ahead. Julia should walk along here in about five minutes. They’d have only a few seconds to exchange information, and then she’d have to move on.

A rustle down the path made him jerk back under cover. Damn. Eduardo’s men patrolled this path now and then. If they screwed up this rendezvous, he wouldn’t get to see Julia for two more days, until they met at the backup site. Besides the fact that his team desperately needed the information she was going to give them, he also didn’t want to wait that long to see her again.