“He has an ego.”
“He’s also a sociopath. I can’t believe you would put yourself at risk like that.”
“I was careful. We always met him in public places. The bistro over on Balboa Avenue near the bazaar. A café near the disco. We had a picnic at the park over on Salazar.”
“You met with him three times?” he asked incredulously. “Lily, what could you possibly have been thinking?”
“Something I should have been thinking about all along.”
“Yeah? What’s that? Suicide?”
“I’m going to expose DeBruzkya to the world for what he is.”
Robert glared at her. “Oh, so you’re going to take him down single-handedly, huh?”
“If I have to.”
“Why don’t you leave that to the trained agents and the freedom fighters? Lily, damn it, this isn’t your war.”
“I’m in the perfect position to do this.”
“Why?”
She changed tactics. “Because DeBruzkya is committing terrible human rights abuses. I’ve seen it, Robert. The mal-nourished children. Entire villages wiped out. Men and women and children.” She thought of the little girl she’d met at one of the orphanages, and to her horror, her voice broke with the last word. “I can’t stand by and do nothing.”
“You haven’t changed a bit, have you?” he growled. “You’re still as hardheaded as ever.”
“I may be hardheaded, but I know when I’m in a position to make a difference.”
“So Lillian Scott can bring down the infamous Bruno DeBruzkya when the people of Rebelia and the American CIA can’t. That’s rich as hell!”
“I know his weak spot.”
“Oh, yeah?” Smiling unpleasantly, he leaned forward and challenged her with a killing look. “So what is it? You got some kind of secret weapon stashed in your kitchen? Military resources we haven’t yet discussed? Soldiers training in the backyard? A knife in your sock? What? What’s your secret weapon, Lily?”
She met his gaze in kind. “Me.”
The single word echoed like a clap of thunder. Robert squashed down temper and tried not to think about how little of this was under his control. “What the bloody hell are you talking about?”
Pulling her legs beneath her in a protective gesture, Lily met his gaze. “General DeBruzkya is…intrigued by the idea of my writing his autobiography.”
“So, he’s an egomaniac.”
“Among other things.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” But Robert had read the general’s profile; Hatch had included it in the file, and it read like a horror novel. The anger burning inside him shifted and tangled with a thin thread of fear and ran straight to his gut. “Jesus, Lily. Don’t tell me you’ve—” Robert struggled for the right words “—let him believe there’s something between you.”
“Not exactly.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
She blew out a breath. “Ever since I interviewed him months ago, he’s been asking people about me, trying to find out where I live. He’s invited me to his palace for dinner several times, but I’ve always found an excuse not to go. He’s asked me several times about the autobiography. He’s obsessed with the idea. He wants to go down in history as being one of the greatest leaders of all time.”
“Lily, for God’s sake…”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“What if he connects you to the Rebellion?”
“I anticipated that, and there’s no way he can connect me to the newspaper.”
“DeBruzkya isn’t stupid. He’s cunning and smart and connected.”
“So am I.”
“Don’t make the mistake of underestimating him.”
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t underestimate me, either.”
Frustration snarled through him that she was being so hardheaded about this. Once upon a time her courage and determination had drawn him, and he’d loved her for it. Now, he figured he’d be lucky if those two things didn’t get her killed.
“I can’t believe you’ve gotten yourself into such a dangerous, impossible situation.” Cursing, he rose and paced to the fireplace to stare into the flames. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Lily.”
“I’m in a position to make a difference.”
“You’re in a position to get yourself killed!”
“I can handle the general.”
Robert knew she was cool under fire. He’d been in some intense situations with her; she didn’t lose her head easily. Still, the fact that she thought fast on her feet didn’t make her a match for DeBruzkya’s brutality. Robert knew all too well what the general was capable of. His file on DeBruzkya contained not only a psychological profile of the general, but photographs of atrocities most people couldn’t fathom. DeBruzkya was a monster who’d fooled hundreds of thousands of people and brought an entire country to its knees. If he found out a woman he trusted—a woman he was interested in romantically—was putting out a black market newspaper there was no doubt he would react swiftly and violently.
Robert’s stomach roiled at the thought. He glanced at Lily and felt nauseous. He’d seen her die twenty-one months ago. Even though there was no longer anything between them save for a few memories and a truckload of bitterness, he didn’t want to see her hurt or killed. By God, not on his watch.
“What about Jack?” he asked, playing his ace. “What’s going to happen to him if you end up getting yourself shot?”
“I don’t plan on getting myself shot any time soon, so you can cut out the scare tactic crap.”
She stuck out her chin, but not before he saw the minute ripple that went through her when he’d mentioned Jack. And Robert knew he’d struck the nerve he’d been aiming for. He hadn’t enjoyed seeing her go pale. But he damn sure wasn’t sorry for making her think twice about what she was doing. And he’d be damned if he was going to keep his mouth shut and play nice while she walked into the sunset with a madman.
“You may be a good journalist, but you don’t have the training for something like this, Lily.”
He saw the walls go up in her eyes. He’d seen that look a hundred times in the months he’d known her, and he knew she was shutting him out. Damn her for being so stubborn.
“I’m not going to change my mind,” she said.
“I’m not going to condone a suicide mission.”
The low rumble of thunder punctuated the words with an ominous finality that raised gooseflesh on his arms.
Shaking her head in impatience, she rose. “It’s late. I need to get some sleep.”
Robert knew it wasn’t a good idea to touch her. Not when he was angry and frustrated and still reeling from the shock of seeing her alive. But he crossed the short distance between them anyway. Her eyes widened when he stepped into her personal space, but her surprise wasn’t enough to stop him. “We’re not finished talking about this,” he said.
“You know I won’t change my mind.”
“And you know I won’t give up.”
“Touché.”
“We’re going to talk about the other thing, too, Lily.”
She paled a little, then stepped back as if suddenly realizing she needed to put space between herself and something dangerous. “I can’t talk about that,” she said.
“I can’t ignore it.”
“You don’t know everything, Robert. Don’t push.”
He tried to bank the swift rise of anger, but it was much too powerful and slammed into him like a rogue wave. He glared at her, feeling more than he wanted, remembering more than he should, wanting something he knew he could never have. “You’re brave enough to face off with DeBruzkya, but when it comes to us you turn tail and run.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she returned evenly.
“I deserve an explanation.”
She hesitated for an interminable moment, her eyes large and startled. He waited for an answer, but he knew it wouldn’t come. She wasn’t going
to talk to him. Not now. Maybe not ever. Still, he waited. For what, he hadn’t the slightest idea. She stared, and he knew she was waiting for the same elusive thing.
“I have to go check on Jack.” She turned away, but stopped halfway to the hall, her head tilted slightly toward him, her back ramrod straight.
Even in profile she was lovely. It unnerved him a little to realize that after all the months of pain he was still attracted to her.
Robert couldn’t take his eyes off her and cursed himself for letting what should have been a quick and painless briefing turn into something a hell of a lot more personal. He’d only been in the cottage an hour and already she was messing with his head, making him remember things he was better off forgetting, making him want things he was a fool for considering.
But he was only a man. A man who’d been alone for a long time. And so he drank in the sight of her silky red hair and slender shoulders and felt the heady pull of lust. He studied the fragile lines of her profile, the mouth that had lied to him so easily, the same mouth that could drive him insane with need.
Her hair was pulled into a ponytail, revealing the delicate line of her jaw. There was worry in her eyes, but those amazing hazel eyes could still suck the breath right out of a man’s lungs, even if there was an ocean of anger standing between them.
Abruptly, she turned to face him. Their eyes met, her hazel clashing against the blue of his. Robert felt the impact like a fighter jet flying low and plowing into him at Mach 1. The back of his neck heated when she licked her lips, and he felt another stir of lust low in his groin. He tried hard not to remember how many times he’d kissed that mouth, how many times she’d kissed him back, how good every single one of those kisses had been. But he did and his body responded with a vengeance that stunned him.
Cursing himself for letting the moment stretch, he stepped back. “I’m going to turn in,” he said woodenly and started for the little room off the kitchen.
He heard her moving behind him, but he didn’t stop. The last thing he wanted was close proximity. Damn it, the last thing he wanted to do was spend the next few days lusting after a woman who’d made her feelings for him crystal clear. A woman who’d shattered his heart and then moved on to another man before the wounds she’d left behind had even had a chance to scab over.
The tiny room was in dismal condition, but clean. Robert was still searching for the light switch when Lily came in with a candle.
“I’m sorry, but there’s no electricity back here.”
“Terrific.” He took the candle from her, careful not to let his fingers brush against hers. Turning, he set the candle on the small counter next to the sink.
“I’m sorry I can’t offer you more.”
“This is fine.” He risked a look at her. “I’m not here to enjoy myself.”
Kneeling, she transferred canning jars from one shelf to another, giving him some room.
“I can do that,” he said.
Ignoring him, she continued working until she’d cleared one of the shelves. “There’s a shower in the main bathroom off the hall. There’s usually hot water in the morning.” She looked away from him, wiped her hands on her jeans. “If you need anything else…”
Before he could stop himself, he reached out and touched her shoulder. “What I need are answers.”
He felt a tremor run the length of her. Then she turned away. He let his hand drop. She brushed by him without answering, without meeting his gaze. Robert watched her move down the hall, feeling petty and pathetic and frustrated as hell.
“What the hell are you doing?” he muttered to himself and dropped his duffel onto the narrow cot. Trying not to think too hard about the answer, he pulled out the battery-powered satellite phone and palm-size computer and set the antenna up on the shelf Lily had cleared. He hit several buttons on the computer, and the liquid crystal display screen glowed ethereally in the candlelight. He waited for the satellite signal to go through, then slipped the tiny padded microphone into his ear and listened to the grid coordinates beep. He typed in his identification number and password, then waited for a mechanical female voice to ask him a pre-designated question for both voice recognition and the correct answer.
“Operation please,” the mechanical voice asked.
“PHOENIX,” he said.
A click sounded, and then Samuel Hatch’s voice came on the line. “Good to hear from you, PHOENIX. I trust you arrived at your destination safe and sound.”
“I did.”
“Any trouble getting to your contact?”
Robert closed his eyes and tried not to think about Lily. “No problems.” He set the tiny camera on the shelf so he and Hatch would have video as well as audio. Having both was not only a convenience, but a security measure to prevent agents from communicating while under duress.
“Have you had a chance to question your contact?”
“Not thoroughly. I arrived pretty late. But I do know that there is information to be had on my target.”
“Okay. Good. Anything we can use?”
He sighed, trying not to think about Lily. “Probably.”
“What about Dr. Morrow?”
“I’ll delve into that tomorrow.”
“And the gems?”
“I should be able to find out more tomorrow.”
“Good.” Hatch paused as if studying him. “Everything else okay? You look…tired.”
“Long day, Hatch. Everything is fine.” Robert looked at the camera, wondering if he looked as strung out as he felt.
“You now have a sidearm for personal protection?”
“That’s correct.”
“Good. Then we’re set. Keep in touch, and be careful. If you get into trouble, you know there’s a doctor at the hospital who can help.”
“Roman Orloff. I know.”
“Good.”
“My contact has a sick child,” he said abruptly. “At some point I’m going to talk to Orloff to see about running some tests.”
“I don’t see a problem with that. It fits nicely with your cover.”
Robert scrubbed a hand over his jaw, feeling the stubble, knowing he wasn’t going to do anything about it until morning.
“PHOENIX?”
He glanced at the screen to see a concerned expression on Hatch’s face and realized belatedly his body language might be relaying more about his frame of mind than he was comfortable with.
“Take care of yourself. I mean it. If things get dangerous, put out the call and we’ll send someone in. You got that?”
“Loud and clear.”
The display blinked, then disconnected. Robert stared at the blank screen for a moment, then folded the tiny computer and slid it into its case. He washed his face in the sink, then blew out the candle and stepped out of his jeans. Rain pinged against the roof as he lay down on the lumpy mattress and pulled the blanket over his hips. The pillow smelled of grass and laundry detergent. The combination reminded him of Lily.
Lacing his hands behind his head, he stared at the dancing shadows on the ceiling and tried to turn off his brain. But his mind continued to reel with all the things he’d learned in the last hours. And even though exhaustion swept through him in shimmering waves, he knew he wouldn’t sleep. The old ache in his thigh had come to life, but tonight the pain was more like an old friend compared to all the other things going through his head.
Turning onto his side, he punched the pillow and tried not to think of the woman sleeping at the other end of the cottage. But he did. He thought of her the same way he’d thought of her every night for the last twenty-one months. He lay in the darkness and watched the water slide down the window and berated himself for thinking of her at all, for wanting a woman who’d moved on to another man. A woman who’d hurt him terribly. A woman he hadn’t been able to forgive. Damn her.
Damn his own foolish heart.
And damn the son of a bitch she’d fallen in love with.
Chapter 4
Robert awoke abr
uptly to the sensation of small, sticky fingers touching his face. He was a split second away from pulling out the revolver Jacques had given him when his sleep-dazed mind pinpointed the source.
Jack.
Opening one eye, he found himself staring into a pudgy face with petal-soft skin, thick hair that was sticking up at the crown and blue eyes filled with the kind of deep innocence that belonged only to the very young. Eye to eye, Robert blinked at the child, trying hard not to think of the dream he’d been having about his mother. A dream that had been anything but innocent.
Jack stood before him on wobbly legs, wearing blue duck pajamas, Rebelian slippers and an ornery grin. He had what looked like flour on his chin. Something pink and sticky was smeared around his bow mouth.
“Gah!” Flour-covered fingers reached out, prodding Robert’s nose. Tugging on his ear. His lips.
Not quite sure how to escape short of jumping up and running out the rear door, Robert endured the contact. He’d never had an aversion to children. Hell, he liked kids—as long as he could walk away at the end of the day.
“Gah!”
“Morning to you, too,” he said as he sat up.
The little room didn’t look quite so dank this morning. Sunshine streamed in through the window above the sink. A breeze ruffled bright yellow curtains. He could hear music coming from somewhere else in the house. Good old-fashioned American rock and roll, if he wasn’t mistaken. The sound of it boosted his spirits almost as much as the smell of something baking, filling the air with cinnamon and spice.
Little Jack stretched his arms upward and reached for Robert’s face again, but Robert turned his head. “Where’s your mommy, tough guy?” Licking his lips, he tasted strawberry jelly. Terrific.
Lily came through the door a moment later looking like a harried mother. A wooden spoon in one hand, a towel in the other, she spotted Jack and shot Robert an apologetic smile. “Sorry. He’s fast,” she said, scooping the baby into her arms.
Robert sat on the cot and stared at her, speechless and a little stunned that anyone could look so damn good so damn early in the morning. She was wearing a pair of faded jeans with an oversize sweatshirt and a turtleneck beneath it. She had flour on her cheek and a powdery little handprint on her backside. A very nicely shaped backside, at that. She’d pulled her wavy red hair into a ponytail, but several strands had fought free to curl around her face. Robert thought about the dream he’d been having about her and wondered how Jacques would feel if he knew the American staying in his house was ogling the mother of his child in very inappropriate ways.