“I watch the news.” He was going to have to give her something way bigger than that. “The whole world has changed. You think I live in a cave?”
“You don’t understand. I’m not talking about what you see on the news. I’m talking about what goes on behind the scenes. The part you used to be involved in. That has changed. The things we know are now a liability.”
She worked hard at not letting his words affect her, but she wasn’t entirely successful. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that we have something they want.”
Olivia was tired. Tired and frustrated. “I don’t have anything, Landry. I died, remember? I walked away with nothing but the clothes on my back and my life.”
“What do you mean, you died?”
She sent another plea for patience in Jeffrey’s direction.
“Don’t say it,” he grumped, “you’ll explain everything later.”
“We need to move,” Landry pressed, drawing her attention back to him. “You know the routine. Hang around too long in one place and you’ll get nailed to the wall.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you, Landry.” She’d trusted him once and, as he so eloquently put it, she’d gotten nailed to the wall. It wasn’t going to happen again.
Those anonymous calls she’d gotten in the middle of the night abruptly joined the rest of the confusing thoughts swirling in her head.
“You’ve been watching me.” The words came out a little too limply to pass as a true accusation, but she didn’t need his confirmation. She knew it was him. On some level she’d always known.
“Yes.” For the second time tonight he looked away, evidently fearing she would see something he didn’t want her to see.
“Why?”
That deep blue gaze collided with hers. “Do you have to ask?”
A fire lit in her belly and she hated herself for the weakness he could so easily evoke deep inside her. This conversation had moved into treacherous territory. Treacherous in more ways than one.
“Get out, Landry.” There was nothing soft or uncertain about her tone now. She wanted him gone.
He shook his head slowly. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”
Talk about melodramatic.
Laughter bubbled up into her throat. This time she couldn’t stop it from rushing out. “You’re a head case. I have patients who are more grounded in reality than you. Now, get out. I’m not going anywhere with you. Stop wasting my time.”
Again, her instincts failed her.
She should have seen his move coming, but she didn’t.
The Beretta on her console was suddenly in his left hand, leaving her unarmed except for the knife in her boot and going for it would have been awkward to say the least.
She was, without doubt, a true idiot.
The Glock in his right wasn’t aimed at her but that part was understood.
“Get your bags if you need them and get into the Land Rover.”
“For the love of God!” Jeffrey leaned forward. “Are we being kidnapped now?”
“I suppose we have to do what the man says, Jeffrey.” Her gaze met his and she hoped he understood that she had a plan. When he didn’t argue she relaxed marginally. Though she doubted he liked her very much right now, she was certain Jeffrey considered her the lesser of the two evils currently plaguing his life.
Back to square one. Waiting for an opportunity.
She opened the door and slid out, snagging her handbag as she went. With a sharp thwack of her palm against his door as she passed, she ordered, “Let’s get this over with, Jeffrey.” Her hand stung but she needed the clarifying arc of discomfort.
Jeffrey got out behind her. Their gazes met again and she wanted to apologize for getting him into this, but nothing she could say would make any difference.
Besides, actions spoke louder than words. She intended to act. Now. She opened the cargo hatch and hefted her overnight bag onto her shoulder. The remainder of the money was inside. She would need it.
Jeffrey moved up next to her and grabbed his own bag.
Landry had already started toward the Land Rover. Keeping one eye on him, she whispered, “Jeffrey.”
He started at the sound of her voice, or maybe it was the fact that she whispered after all the yelling. “Yes?”
She jerked her head, indicating he should come closer as she slowly closed the Explorer’s cargo door. “Where’s the .32 I gave you?”
He frowned. “The gun?”
She shushed him and glanced covertly toward where Landry waited only a half-dozen yards away. “Where’d you put it?”
He patted his pants pockets. “I…” His hands came up, palms revealed and unfortunately empty. “I don’t know. I must have lost it.”
How could anyone lose a gun in the middle of a situation like this? Stay calm. This was Jeffrey. He wasn’t familiar with the ins and outs of kill or be killed. The only thing he’d ever killed was a virus in a controlled lab environment. She couldn’t take out her frustration on him.
“It’s okay. We’ll be fine.” She said the last as much for herself as for his benefit.
Taking that morose walk in the direction of the Land Rover, Jeffrey rubbed his jaw as if he’d only just then remembered the sock he’d taken. “I’m going to press charges against him when this is over. I hope he has a good attorney.” He looked down his shoulder at Olivia. “Even if he is a friend of yours.” Realization dawned in his expression. “He’s not one of your patients, is he?”
She supposed in Jeffrey’s mind that would explain everything. What he would consider bizarre actions and strange stories could be expected from a mental case. “No. He’s not.”
Jeffrey looked disappointed.
Landry opened the rear hatch of his classic SUV and closed it again after they’d stowed their bags.
When he would have headed to the driver’s door, he said to Olivia, “I’m sure you’ll understand that I want you up front where I can keep an eye on you.”
Nothing she hadn’t expected.
He had worked with her before.
If they were enemies, which plainly was the case, he would be well aware that she would kill him in order to escape if necessary and, of course, given the opportunity. She understood that he would likely do the same.
Survival was the name of this game.
She’d played it too many times before.
Jeffrey, poor guy, didn’t have a clue.
“Where is it we’re going now, Landry?” Jeffrey settled into the backseat, clicked his seat belt into place and waited for an answer. “I’m as much a part of this as either of you. I have the right to know.”
Jeffrey’s determination not to be outdone by Landry continued to surprise her. But even that couldn’t diminish her mounting frustration. She plopped into the front passenger seat and buckled up. Landry hadn’t won, she reminded herself, he’d only bought himself some time. She wasn’t done yet by any means. She still had the knife but he had at least two handguns. The right moment was crucial if she hoped to come out of a confrontation alive.
Landry started the engine. “To a safe location,” he told Jeffrey as he shifted into Reverse and executed a three-point turn that set the vehicle in the direction of the main highway.
“Are we supposed to trust you and not ask any questions?” Jeffrey inquired further, his tone crisp.
“Trust might be too much to ask,” Landry admitted. “For now, I’ll settle for cooperation.”
Olivia wanted to punch him for sounding so cool and collected. He was in charge and that was the way he liked it. She thought of the knife in her boot. Oh, she’d cooperate, all right. She’d be a real team player, all the way up to the moment that she sank that blade right into his black heart. Her chest tightened.
She closed her eyes and fought the confusing and contradictory emotions. Over and over she told herself how much she wanted to hurt him. But those feelings were nothing more than a self-defense mechanism. All the psychology in the world wouldn’t whitewash that glaring fact. She couldn’t kill him or even hurt him unless it was in self-defense or to protect Jeffrey. Still, it made her feel better to think about it.
How could he possibly still have any sort of control over her? She’d hated him too long.
But what if he was telling her the truth? What if he had gotten a tip and had come to head off her elimination? She gave her head a little shake. It was way too early in the game for her to even guess. Right now, no one was exempt from suspicion.
“I suppose I can cooperate,” Jeffrey announced, sounding rather cool and collected himself. “As long as Olivia is agreeable.”
She hoped like hell his sticking by her didn’t cost him far more than he’d bargained for.
T
hey didn’t go that far.
Less than an hour from Hamilton’s weekend getaway. They hadn’t even left the state of Virginia. But the back roads he’d taken weren’t familiar. Maybe fifty miles south of Arlington, not that much farther from D.C. proper. The last fifteen or so miles she couldn’t say for sure which way they’d been traveling.
A long driveway that led onto a wooded property ended in a clearing where an ancient farmhouse stood, its metal roof glistening in the rising sun.
The place looked old. Not run-down, just old. Like something straight out of the 1800s. A porch in front and half a dozen paned windows waited in the shadows. No indication of occupancy. No vehicles. Not even a dog.
“Gee, and I was hoping for a heavenly bed and a hot tub.”
Landry shut off the engine. “It isn’t as rustic as it looks.”
Olivia knew without asking that this place did not belong to Landry. It wasn’t his style. She assumed the house belonged to a friend, though, unless he’d changed drastically, she doubted he had many friends.
No one liked perfection. Landry was physically gorgeous, mentally sharp and unerring in his work.
Stop it. Don’t go there.
She would not start dwelling on the assets that had once drawn her to him.
“As long as it has indoor plumbing,” she noted, opening her door, “I’ll be happy for about two minutes.”
Jeffrey emerged from the backseat and made a harrumphing sound as he took in their quarters.
Landry opened the cargo door and grabbed Olivia’s bag before she could.
“I can handle it, Landry.” His move wouldn’t be about chivalry. It would have everything to do with making sure she had no means of opportunity at her disposal, including whatever she’d packed. He would anticipate backup supplies. They’d had similar training.
“I’ve got it.”
He strode toward the house without bothering to ensure she followed.
Olivia surveyed the property. It wasn’t like she was going anywhere. They were miles from civilization and the only means of transportation belonged to the man from whom she needed to escape.
Question was, could she manage it?
Jeffrey grabbed his bag and closed the hatch. He studied Olivia a long moment. “Are you okay? I’m not sure what’s really going on here, but I’m very concerned about you. This man” he glanced toward the house “doesn’t appear to actually want to hurt you. At least I assume if he’d wanted us dead, we would be dead by now. But I’m getting mixed signals from him.”
Very astute, she mused. Jeffrey’s continued concern for her was like a kick in the stomach. She hugged him. Couldn’t help herself. “I’m fine, Jeffrey.” She let go a weary breath. “I’ll get us out of this, I swear.”
“And I’ll help,” he promised with a faint smile. “Whatever threatens you, threatens me.”
She hadn’t deserved this man. He was too good. Too kind. She’d only been kidding herself with the idea that her life could ever be normal.
When she stepped back from the embrace and turned to the house that would either be their refuge or their prison, her gaze met Landry’s. He stood on the porch, watching. His thoughts on what he’d just witnessed were carefully schooled behind that impassive mask he always wore.
Without missing a beat, Olivia strode straight up to the porch, climbed the steps and looked him square in the eye. “I hope you’ve got food in there.”
Landry nodded once. “We’ll eat, then we’ll talk.”
Talk. So he could tell her a few more lies?
Talk wasn’t on her mind. Finding that opportunity she needed for escape was her one goal.
She pinned a wide smile into place. “While you cook, we’ll freshen up.”
Something changed in Landry’s expression but she couldn’t quite decipher the transition. Maybe he didn’t like the idea of the two of them getting out of his sight together.
Tough.
“Come on, Jeffrey.” She walked inside without waiting for an official invitation or a guided tour. The house wasn’t that large. She could find her own way around.
“Leave your cell phones with me,” Landry ordered, halting her march across the living room.
She tossed her handbag onto the antiquated plaid sofa. Jeffrey’s phone was in her bag, as well. With a quick survey of the room she summed up the decorating theme as out-of-date country with a lean toward comfortably worn.
With an acerbic look in Landry’s direction when he remained silent, she asked, “What about my bag?”
“It’s all yours.” He gave her a look that said he’d checked it out and wasn’t worried about the contents.
How very gracious of him. She snatched her bag off the knotty pine table at the end of the sofa.
He indicated the hall to the right of the kitchen that lay straight ahead. “Make yourselves at home.”
Passing the wide entry to the kitchen, she made a mental note that there was a back door just past the stove. Along the hall to the right of the kitchen was a bath with one small window, and beyond were three bedrooms. She chose door number two on the right side of the hall, the bedroom that faced the front and side of the property. She dumped her bag onto the bed. Jeffrey deposited his next to hers.
He sniffed. “My allergies are not going to like this place.”
Poor Jeffrey. He’d been so patient. And so heroic. She patted his arm. “Don’t worry. We won’t be here long.”
He looked relieved. “You have a plan?”
“Yes.” She eased to the door and checked the hall. She heard shuffling of metal and stoneware in the kitchen. Landry was occupied for the moment. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t hear. He could have listening devices hidden all over this house for all she knew.
She turned back to Jeffrey. “We need a shower.”
Again he appeared taken aback. “Is it safe? I mean, is it wise to turn our backs on him long enough to shower?” He shook his head. “I don’t trust the man. He’s taking this hostage thing too far. Are you sure he’s not from one of the psych wards where you’ve volunteered? I hear there are some real crazies in those state-run institutions.”
Patience. Thinning at its current rate, she wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be able to hang on to that precious commodity. Jeffrey was the last person she should be short with.
“He’s not one of my patients. There are things I have to tell you. But right now we don’t have time. You have to trust me.”
He lifted one skeptical eyebrow. “That’s what he said.”
She offered him a reassuring face. “But you know me, Jeffrey.”
More skepticism. “Do I?”
Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the right way to go. “We don’t have time to go into that right now. Let’s freshen up.”
She grabbed a change of clothes from her bag. Jeffrey, still looking dubious, did the same. They headed to the only bathroom in the house. Olivia closed and locked the door more to annoy Landry than to ensure they weren’t disturbed. If Landry wanted in, he could definitely get in. A mere slab of wood would never stop him.
The tub was ancient but clean and, thankfully, a showerhead had been added in recent years, along with the necessary curtain. She turned on the water and quickly stripped off her travel-weary clothes. Jeffrey moved a little slower, but with her encouragement he was undressed in no time and she tugged him into the shower.
He pulled her into his arms before she could stop him and she was the one surprised when his arousal nudged her intimately.
“It’s good to hold you like this, Olivia.”
For a couple of seconds she let herself enjoy the familiar comfort of his well-toned body and the idea that some things hadn’t changed. Jeffrey might not be a player like Landry, but he stayed fit and was quite handsome. He was kind and polite…and safe. She’d found the latter soothing. She had enjoyed their relationship. She would miss him…they would never be able to go back to the way things were.
Right now, however, she had to focus. Flattening her palms against his chest to restrain his growing interest in turning this shower into a quickie, she explained, “Maybe later. Right now we need to talk about what’s going on and what we’re going to do about it.”
His embrace loosened a little but not entirely. “All right. I suppose all the excitement served as an aphrodisiac. What would you like me to do?”
Keeping her voice low enough that the sound of the water provided sufficient camouflage, she laid out her plan, such as it was.
“Since he has control of the weapons, I’m going to have to rely upon hand-to-hand combat.”
Jeffrey’s expression turned somber. “That’s too dangerous. Let me have a shot at him.”
She pressed her fingers to his lips. “Keep your voice down.”
“Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “He could kill both of us. We can’t be sure of his intentions. I can sense that you don’t entirely trust him. Why take the risk?”
“Because there’s no other choice. We can’t sit idly by while he does whatever he has planned. I have to make a move. This isn’t going to be over until I figure out what the hell is going on. I can’t do that here.”
He pursed his lips and thought about what she’d said for long enough to make her nervous. Any attempt she made at escape would be doomed if she couldn’t count on Jeffrey.
“I’m not sure I understand any of this. You said one of your patients had threatened me to get back at you, for some perceived injustice, I presume. You said the man you visited last night was a relative of this patient. I’m clear up to that point. How does this Landry fellow play into things if he’s not your patient?”
More lies. “I’m not even sure about that myself.” How much should she tell him at this point? Not much. “We were friends once.” She hated that the old pain and disillusionment slipped into her tone so easily. “But he betrayed me and for some reason he’s back now. I don’t know his reasons, but I need to find out. Somehow it’s all connected.” That was about as clear as mud.
“You were more than friends.”
At Jeffrey’s suggestion, her gaze met his. The guardedness she saw there sent another stab of regret deep into her chest. There was no reason to lie about that. He was too smart not to pick up on the signs. If she looked at the situation from Jeffrey’s perspective, this thing between her and Landry was the only tangible part.
“Yes,” she confessed, “we were more than friends.”
He nodded sagely. “That explains the way he looks at you.”
She felt his arms tighten possessively around her. “We were over a long time ago, Jeffrey.” It wasn’t that her relationship with Jeffrey, or what was left of it, was such that she needed to explain that aspect of her past. But she wanted to…for some reason. It simply felt like the right thing to do under the circumstances.
Jeffrey didn’t respond to her assertion. Attempting to convince him would be a waste of time. He either believed her or he didn’t. They had plans to make and the water was cooling already.
She grabbed the bar of soap and began to lather her body as she explained more of her plan. “I’ll take whatever opportunity arises to regain control. And when I do, I need you to be ready to move.”
He took the bar she offered and lathered his skin. “I’ll follow your lead,” he assured. “Anything to get us out of this situation.”
That was all she needed. “Just stay alert and be ready.”
“I will. I won’t breathe easy again until we’re back in L.A.”
She didn’t tell him that going back to L.A. right now would be too dangerous. He wouldn’t take it well. She let him believe that they were on the same sheet of music. That was the best for the moment.
Thankfully, a bottle of store-brand shampoo prevented the need to use bar soap on her hair. When they’d finished their shower and dried sufficiently, getting dressed was accomplished much more quickly. Olivia’s hair would just have to dry on its own since she didn’t find a dryer.
Besides, if Jeffrey was half as starved as she was, the scent of bacon frying was driving him mad. It definitely put some additional enthusiasm into her desire to rejoin Landry.
Olivia was glad she’d packed for comfort. Jeans, T-shirt and the hiking boots. The knife was sheathed and tucked in the right one.
The scent of bacon and toast had permeated the air in the hall and the living room beyond it. Olivia’s stomach rumbled as she entered the kitchen and got a visual on the source of the pleasant smells. Toast, bacon, eggs, O.J. and coffee. She couldn’t believe Landry had gone to all this trouble.
Jeffrey pulled a chair from the table for her and took the one right next to it for himself. Landry plunked a plate in front of each of them before placing a third on the opposite side of the table. He poured the juice and coffee before claiming his chair. She gritted her teeth and tried her best not to focus on those capable hands or those broad shoulders. Domestic duty only made him appear sexier. How was that possible?
Olivia directed her thoughts back to business and reached for the coffee first. “I see you haven’t lost your touch in the kitchen.”
Landry grunted something that couldn’t quite be called an affirmative response, but she took it as one all the same. He had always been very handy in the kitchen. Whenever they were together, if they dined in, he did the cooking. He’d claimed that, being raised by his mother without the influence of a father, he’d had no choice but to learn to prepare an appetizing meal or expire from sheer boredom. There’d been no one to teach him outdoor activities.
Olivia was pretty sure the cooking was more a hobby that provided an extreme counterpoint to what he did for a living. Being an Interpol agent was very much like working for the CIA. Depending upon your division, the work could be murderliterally. All agents needed ways to relieve stress. The other way they’d relieved their stress bobbed to the surface of her musings. She shifted in her chair, ordering herself to stop thinking about him in that way.
Like Olivia’s had been until three years ago, Landry’s position was assassin. Quickly, surgically, without any fuss or fanfare. Do the job, get out, end of story.
So when he was at home he created meals like a master chef and lived the quiet life of a well-heeled man of means. She’d been to his Notting Hill home in London. Landry had money. She had always felt that his quiet, reserved life in England had prompted him into the business of master spy and assassin out of sheer boredom. He was very good at what he did. Which explained nothing about why he was here, serving her eggs and bacon, a typical American breakfast.