In the Dark (22 page)

“I’m lying flat on my back. I’ve taken the pills. At least give me this.”

If he hadn’t looked at her so pleadingly, she might have been able to refuse. But there was that glimmer of vulnerability again and she just couldn’t do it.

“What is it that you want, Agent Hennessey?”

“First.” He moistened those full lips. Strange, she considered, his lips were aw fully full for a man’s. There hadn’t been a lot she could do about that. The best they could hope for was that no one would notice. “I’d like you to stop calling me Agent Hennessey. Call me Joe.”

His fingers still hung around her wrist, more loosely now, but the contact was there. Pulling away would have been a simple matter but he was her patient and she needed him to relax. So she didn’t pull away.

“All right, Joe,” she complied. “I suppose then that you should call me Elizabeth.” Most any thing was preferable to Doc. Although she did have to admit that he some how made it sound sexy.

He licked his lips and said her name, “Elizabeth. It suits you.”

She wasn’t sure whether that was a compliment or not, but she decided not to ask.

“Talk to me,” he urged, the fingers around her wrist some how slipping down to en twine with hers. “Tell me
about your relationship with Maddox. What attracted you to him?”

They were supposed to do this. That’s why she was here, be yond the surgery, that is. She was supposed to make sure he knew about David’s personal life—at least as much as she knew. He needed to get the voice down pat and the mannerisms. Practice would accomplish both. But the details were another matter. She had to give him the details just in case David discussed his private life with someone Hennessey—Joe, she amended—might come in contact with during the course of this under cover operation.

Elizabeth saw no point in putting off the inevitable. Getting on with it was the best way.

“He was nice,” she said. And it was true. She hadn’t known what to expect out of a CIA handler and his being nice was the first thing she was drawn to. All extraneous assets utilized by the CIA were as signed handlers as a go-between. She didn’t say because he certainly knew this already.

“Ouch. Maybe you don’t know this, honey, but nice is not a man’s favorite adjective.”

“Elizabeth,” she corrected, feeling even more awkward with his use of the endearment though she felt confident he didn’t mean it as an actual endearment.

“Elizabeth,” he acknowledged.

Even then, as he acquiesced to her assertion he made one of his own. He drew tiny circles on her palm with the pad of his thumb.

She started to pull her hand away, but decided that would only allow him to see that he’d gotten to her. Pretending his little digs at her composure didn’t bother her would carry far more weight. When he saw that
he couldn’t get to her in that way he would surely let it go.

“I liked his jokes,” she went on in hopes of losing her self in the past. She worked hard not to do that on a regular basis; doing so now was a stab at keeping her mind off how being this close to Joe Hennessey unnerved her. It shouldn’t, but it did.

“Yeah, he was a jokester,” Joe murmured.

His voice had thickened a little from the action of the painkiller. If she were lucky he’d fall asleep soon. His body needed the rest. Whether he realized it or not his whole system was working hard to heal his new wounds which diverted strength and energy from other aspects of his existence. He didn’t need to fight the process.

Some thing he’d said in the ambulance, about lying, pinged her memory. She’d have to ask him about that later when he was further along in his recovery.

“So he was nice,” Joe reiterated, “and he could tell a joke. Is that why you fell for him?”

His lids had drifted shut now. He wouldn’t last much longer. Elizabeth was glad. She stared at their joined hands. Hers smooth and pale, his rougher, far darker as if he spent most of his time on a beach some where.

As she watched, his fingers slackened, lay loose between hers. His respiration was deep and slow. She doubted he would hear her answer even if she bothered to give one. But he’d asked, why not respond?

“No, Agent Hennessey, those are not the reasons I fell for him.” She paused and when he didn’t correct her she knew he was down for the count. “I fell for him because he was like you,” she confessed, her voice barely a whisper. “He made me feel things that terrified me and, at the same time, made me feel alive.” As hard as
she’d tried not to look back and see her self as stupid, she couldn’t help it. She’d been so damned foolish.

“And look where it got me,” she muttered, annoyed with her self for dredging up the memories.

With every intention of leaving the room she started to pull her hand from the big, warm cradle of his and his fingers abruptly closed firmly around hers.

“Don’t stop now, Elizabeth,” he murmured without opening his eyes. “You’re just getting to the good part.”

The only thing that kept her from slapping him was the fact that she would likely undo some of her handiwork and have to do it all over again.

Instead, she held her fury in check and went on as if he’d misinterpreted what she’d said. Tomorrow, or even after that, if he questioned her about her comment she would lie through her teeth and swear she hadn’t said any such thing. Two could play this game, she decided.

Stating the facts as if they described someone else’s life she told Joe Hennessey the story of how Agent David Maddox had come into her life as her handler and proceeded to lure her into temptation with his vast charm.

Hennessey would no doubt recognize the story. He probably practiced the same M.O. all the time. According to what David had told her, Hennessey left a heart-broken woman behind at every assignment. He was the proverbial James Bond. The man who had it all. A new secret life, with all it en tailed, every week.

How exciting it must be to live that kind of life with absolutely no accountability to any one. The bro ken hearts he left behind would certainly be chalked up
to collateral damage just as the occasional dead body surely was.

Elizabeth worked hard at keeping her tone even and her temper out of the mix, but it wasn’t easy. The more she talked about the past and considered her relationship with David, the more she realized how she hadn’t ever really known him. She only knew what had drawn her to him.

She didn’t really know David the man. She only knew David the lover.

She knew what he’d allowed her to see.

That realization was the hardest of all.

Her gaze dropped to Joe Hennessey. This time he was definitely sleeping. She couldn’t help wondering if he’d done this on purpose. Made her see.

She tugged her hand free of his and admitted yet another painful truth. No. This was no one’s fault but her own. She’d seen what she’d wanted to see.

Nothing more.

And now she knew the whole truth.

Her relationship with David had been based on an illusion that she had created in her mind.

Elizabeth left Hennessey’s room.

She progressed down the stairs and walked to the front door. She unlocked and opened it and came face-to-face with the agent as signed to that location.

“I need to see Director Calder,” she said, her voice lacking any real emotion.

“Is there a problem, Dr. Cameron?” the agent asked, his dark eye wear no doubt concealing an instant concern for the two principals it was his job to protect.

“Yes, there is,” she said bluntly. “I need to go home. I’ve decided I can’t complete this assignment. Please call the director for me.”

Elizabeth closed the door. There was nothing else to say.

She’d made up her mind.

Agreeing to this part of his mission had been a mistake. Giving someone David’s face was one thing but she could not do the rest. There had to be someone else who knew David’s personality well enough to help Hennessey grasp the necessary elements. Surely there were videos the CIA had made, tapes of interviews David had conducted.

How ever they conducted this portion of the mission from here had nothing to do with her.

She wanted out.

T
hree days elapsed before Elizabeth would again speak to him about her relationship with Maddox.

Today was his first “official” Maddox les son. They were finally getting down to business. ’Bout time.

That first night at the safe house she had left him sleeping and called the director. Not the director of field operations. The frigging director of the CIA him self. She had demanded to be taken home, had insisted that she wanted no further part in this operation.

Some how Director Calder had changed her mind.

Since Joe had slept through the whole thing he had no idea how the director had accomplished the feat.

At any rate, Joe had awakened the next morning to an edict from the good doctor. She refused to discuss anything about the assignment with Joe until three days had passed. She wanted him to stay on the full dos age of the medication and in bed during said time. He hadn’t liked
it one damned bit, but what choice did he have? It wasn’t like he could disobey a direct order from Calder.

During those three days Elizabeth had at tended to his medical needs. She’d changed his band ages. Thank fully at this point the bulkier gauze was gone. The swelling was still pretty ugly as was the redness. He looked like he’d been on the losing end of a pool room brawl.

“Not like that,” she said, her impatience showing.

“Show me,” Joe countered, his own patience thinning.

It wasn’t like he’d been around Maddox that much. Getting his mannerisms down pat wasn’t going to be easy with out a better understanding of how he moved.

Elizabeth did the thing with her right arm that she was convinced Joe would never get right. A clever little salute of a wave Maddox had tossed her way every time he saw her. It wasn’t that big a deal. He doubted Maddox waved at his tar gets.

Since she waited, glaring at him, Joe assumed she was ready for him to try again. So he did.

She shook her head. “That’s still not right.” At his annoyed look she threw up her hands. “This is impossible! You’re not going to get it. You’re not him!”

Enough.

Joe got right in her face. She blinked, but to her credit, she didn’t back off.

“You know what, you’re right, I’m not him.” He grappled to regain some kind of hold on his temper. “What I need is for you to teach me what I need to know, not dog out my every attempt.”

She held her ground, her arrogant little chin jutting out even further. “You know what? I think we need a break.”

He straightened, shook his head. “Oh yeah. That’s
what we need. We’ve just gotten started and already we need a break. At this rate all those agents will be dead and we won’t even need to go through with this operation any way.”

Her mouth opened and the harsh in take of breath told him he’d hit his mark way before the hurt glimmering in her eyes told the tale. “Someone else is dead?”

Dammit. He hadn’t meant to tell her about that. Calder had instructed him to keep quiet about the latest hit for fear she would be so shaken she wouldn’t be able to continue with their work. Continue, hell, they hadn’t even started. Not really.

He booted her words from the other night out of his head. He couldn’t keep going over that like a repeating blog. She’d admitted, when she thought he was asleep, that he affected her and her words had affected him. Even half-comatose he’d felt a surge of want deep in his gut.

Maybe it was just the fact that he’d despised Maddox that made him want her. Then again, the truth was, he hadn’t known Maddox that well. Maybe he’d despised Maddox because he had the girl Joe wanted.

And he wouldn’t have ever known if it hadn’t been for that one night.

That night had changed everything.

“Answer me, Hennessey,” she demanded. “Who is dead?”

His hope that being on a first-name basis might bring a unity and informality to their work had bombed big time.

“Agent Motley. You may not remember him—”

“I remember him,” she interrupted. “He was the first transformation.”

She looked ready to crumple but some how she didn’t.
Instead she looked at him with hellfire in her eyes. “What about his family?”

Joe hated even worse to tell her this part. “His wife was murdered as well. But his daughter was away with friends so she’s okay.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “She isn’t okay, Hennessey. She won’t ever be okay again. Her parents were murdered and she’s alone.”

Neither of them moved for five seconds that turned into ten. He couldn’t help wondering if the person Elizabeth was really talking about was her. She was alone…basically. Her father, retired Colonel Cameron, had died years ago, but her mother was still alive, at least in body. Alzheimer’s had made an invalid of her and she no longer recognized her own daughter. She lived in a home especially for Alzheimer’s patients. Maddox had been Elizabeth’s only viable emotional attachment.

Was that why she had such trouble dealing with this operation?

“She won’t be alone, Elizabeth,” Joe said softly. He resisted the urge to move closer, to comfort her with his touch. “She has aunts, uncles and cousins. It won’t be the same but she won’t be alone.”

Elizabeth wet her lips. He saw her lower one tremble just a little. “That’s good.” She nodded. “I’m glad she has a support system.”

The way you didn’t?
he wanted to ask.

“Who are we really talking about here, Elizabeth? You or Agent Motley’s daughter?”

Fury flashed across her face. “I don’t know what you mean, Agent Hennessey. I’m perfectly fine.”

“I think you haven’t gotten over losing Maddox.”

Judging by the horror in her eyes, completely deflat
ing her anger, he’d royally screwed up by making that comment.

“This isn’t a counseling session, Agent Hennessey,” she returned coolly, too coolly. “I don’t need your conclusions on my relationships.”

“Relationship,” he corrected, asking for more trouble.

She glowered at him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged. Hell, he was in over his head now, might as well say the rest. “
Relationship,”
he repeated. “From what I can tell that’s the only long-term commitment you’ve been involved in. Before or since.”

Her hands settled on her hips, drawing his reluctant attention to the way her jeans molded to her soft curves. Damn, he was doomed.

“Who gave you permission to look into my background? Especially my personal life?” she demanded, her tone stone cold now. She was fighting mad.

“I’ve been watching you for weeks,
Elizabeth,
” he said, purposely saying her name the way he’d heard Maddox say it on the few times they’d met. “It was part of my job. Get to know your routine. Get to know you. Find out who you talked to. Where you went. What you ate. Who you slept with.”

She staggered back a couple of steps. “You’ve been watching me?”

The question came out as if the reality of what he’d been saying had only just penetrated.

“That’s right. I’ve watched every move you’ve made for weeks,” he replied, stoking the flames with pure fuel.

Her eyes rounded. “I haven’t slept with any one since…” Her words trailed off and something achy and
damaged flickered in her eyes. Some thing he couldn’t quite name and never wanted to see again.

“Since Maddox,” he finished for her. And then he turned away, unable to look at the emotional wreckage he’d caused. It hadn’t been necessary for him to push that hard. He could have stopped this before it went any where near this far.

“Try again.”

What the hell?

He turned back to her and she stood, arms crossed over her chest, glaring at him. “What?”

“I said,” she hurled the words at him, “try again. People are dying. You have to get this right.”

Some thing shifted in side him then, made him wish he could turn back time and do those last few minutes over. He hadn’t meant to hurt her but he had. But she was too strong, too determined to let him win with out a fight.

Dr. Elizabeth Cameron was no coward.

Just something else to admire about her.

Elizabeth awakened that night from a frightful nightmare. David had been calling to her, begging her for help and she couldn’t reach him. No matter how she’d tried he just appeared to draw farther and farther away.

She tried to get her bearings now. It was completely dark. Not home. The safe house. Joe Hennessey.

A breath whooshed out of her lungs and she relaxed marginally. The dream must have awakened her.

A soft rap sounded from her door and she bolted upright. A dozen probable reasons, all bad, for her being awakened in the middle of the night crashed one by one
through her mind. She felt for her glasses on the bedside table. “Yes?”

“Dr. Cameron, this is Agent Stark. We may have a problem.”

Elizabeth was out of the bed before the man finished his statement. She dragged on her robe and rushed to the door with out bothering with a light.

“What’s wrong?” The hall was empty save for Agent Stark. A table lamp some ten feet away backlit the tall man and his requisite black suit.

“I’m not sure there’s a real problem, but Agent Hennessey has requested that we bring in something for stomach cramps. Agent Dawson insisted I check with you first.”

Stomach cramps? Worry washed over her. “I’ll need my bag.”

Stark nodded. “I’ll wait for you at Agent Hennessey’s room.”

Elizabeth flipped on the over head light and rushed around the room until she determined where she’d left her bag last. She never had this problem at home. But here, with
him,
she felt perpetually out of sorts.

By the time she was in the hall she could hear Hennessey growling at his fellow agent.

“I don’t need the doc, Stark. I need something for—”

“Thank you, Agent Stark,” Elizabeth said by way of dismissal when she barged, with out knocking, into the room. “I’ll let you know if we need any thing.”

Judging by Hennessey’s bed covers he’d been writhing in discomfort for some time. “Why didn’t you let me know you needed me?” she demanded of her in subordinate patient.

“I don’t need a doctor,” he grumped as he sat up.
One hand remained fastened against his gut. “What I need is Maalox or Pepto. Some thing for a stomach ache. Apparently dinner disagreed with me.”

Before Elizabeth could fathom his intent he stood, allowing the sheet to fall haphazardly where it would, mostly around his ankles, and leaving him clothed in nothing more than a wrinkled pair of boxers. She looked away but not soon enough. The image of strong, muscled legs and a lean, ribbed waist was already permanently and indelibly imprinted upon at least a dozen brain cells.

“Oh, man.” He bent forward slightly in pain.

Elizabeth tried to reconcile the man who refused the proper dose of pain medication with one who couldn’t tolerate a few stomach cramps with out demanding a remedy.

“Are you sure it was something you ate?” Less than a week had passed since his surgery, there were a number of problems that could crop up. Before he could answer, she added, “Let’s have a look.”

“Come on, Doc, this isn’t necessary,” he grumbled.

She held up a hand. “Sit, Agent Hennessey.”

With a mighty ex hale he collapsed back onto the bed. She didn’t really need to see the rest of his face. His eyes said it all. He had no patience for this sort of thing.

When she’d tucked the thermometer into his mouth, she moved to the door and asked Agent Stark to send for an over-the-counter tonic for stomach cramps. He hadn’t mentioned any other is sues that generally went hand-in-hand with cramps, but she didn’t see any reason to take the risk. The medication she requested would cover either or both symptoms.

Hennessey sat on the edge of the bed, the thermom
eter protruding from his lips, and he looked exactly like a petulant child with an amazingly grown-up body. And a layer of gauze concealing the majority of his face.

She thought of the agent who’d died in the past twenty-four hours and she prayed that her efforts wouldn’t be too little too late. She’d taken an oath to save lives. Had her support of the CIA helped or hurt? She had thought her work would save them from this very fate and now it seemed those she had helped were on a list marked for death.

How could that be?

It didn’t make sense.

“Nor mal,” she commented aloud after reading the thermometer. She set the old-fashioned instrument on the bed side table next to her bag. “Any other symptoms.”

“No.” He groaned. “At least not yet.”

“Let me have a look at your face.” She’d changed his band ages this morning and all had looked well enough. Still some redness and swelling, but that was perfectly nor mal.

“My face isn’t the problem.” He pushed her hands away. “It’s my gut.”

Worry gnawing at her, she reached into her bag and removed her stethoscope and blood pressure cuff. She saw no reason to take chances.

Hennessey swore but she ignored him. BP was only slightly elevated. The thrashing around in the bed and any sort of pain could be responsible for that.

She listened to his heart and lungs. Nothing out of the ordinary. His heart sounded strong and steady.

As she put the cuff and stethoscope away he said, “I told you I was fine.”

“Yes, you did,” she agreed. “But I would be remiss in my duties if I didn’t double-check.”

He made a sound that loudly telegraphed his doubt of her motives. “You probably just wanted an excuse to see me in my shorts,” he said glibly.

Elizabeth tamped down her first response of annoyance and thought about that remark for a moment. Deciding he wasn’t the only one who could throw curves, she sat down beside him. Tension went through him instantly, stiffening his shoulders and making the muscle in his jaw flex.

“Actually, Agent Hennessey, I’ve already seen most of you the day of your surgery.” She produced a smile at his narrowed gaze. “Some times when they shift a patient from the surgical gurney sheets drop and gowns get shoved up around waists.” As true as her statement was, it hadn’t happened with him but he didn’t have to know that. “But don’t worry,” she assured him, “the only person who laughed was the nurse, but don’t tell her I told you.”