Into Danger Part 22

"How the h.e.l.l am I going to get four tickets to a sold-out opera I don't want to see?"

"Your problem, man. I merely plan the setup." Cam grinned again, not at all fazed. "I'm only worried about myself. I have to get all knowledgeable about opera and singing, and get all spruced up in a penguin suit."

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why go to all that trouble? Be yourself."

"Ah, then it wouldn't be a setup, would it? Come on, man, help me out here. Patty will see what she wants to see."

"And what's that? A penguin-suited garbage disposal?"

"Excuse me. I'm going to be the perfect gentleman, you'll see. It would give her an idea that I can change, be someone she likes. Adores. Wants. Needs." Cam went off on a tangent, gesturing like an actor.

"Okay, end it there, man. I get the meaning." Steve sniffed, then went back to his notes. "Geez, an opera. Why couldn't it be a football game or something?"

"An unexpected twist, don't you agree? And I set it all up, smart me. Clever me. Devious me." Cam continued gesturing.

Steve laughed, then plucked his lower lip thoughtfully. A setup.

Marlena heard the click of the suite door opening and shutting. Even though she had been expecting him, it was both disturbing and exciting to know it was Stash without checking. It didn't take long for him to find her.

She glanced up with feigned casualness from the magazine she had been leafing through. It was unsettling, this sudden need for a man's presence. She didn't know what to say, what to do. She could only come up with a parody of herself in an ap.r.o.n, duster in one hand, dinner plate in the other. You're getting hysterical, she scolded herself. The only option left was to sit there and wait.

He strolled into the media room without hesitating, as if he'd known she was there all along. He had a familiar-looking knapsack with him, which he tossed onto one of the armchairs. He looked tired, and she fought the urge to jump up and kiss him. It was that ap.r.o.n-wearing image influencing her, she told herself.

She nodded toward the chair with the knapsack. "This is a familiar scene. Moving in?"

Steve sat down across from her, his dark eyes glinting. "Yeah. You want me to make you a martini, sweetheart?"

"You want me to make you breakfast?"

"I ate every green bite, didn't I?" he asked with a slight smile.

Marlena glanced at the magazine on her lap. "You see, I'm not made to be a housewife." Now why did she blurt it out like that?

"I can read upside down, Lena. You're looking at a recipe."

She slammed the magazine shut. It had been a whim when she saw the recipe in the cooking section. A whim, that was all.

Steve watched, fascinated, as Marlena tossed the magazine onto the table and settled back against the sofa. In a flash she became someone he was already quite familiar with-the lazy-voiced, bored woman with the mocking eyes. A defense mechanism, he recognized. Once again he had gotten too close.

"I was just reading," she told him, spreading her arms across the back of the sofa. "After all, I'm in a team now, got to wait for people, can't just go off and do stuff on my own."

It was a dig Steve chose to ignore. "I have information that might be of use," he said.

Her blue eyes narrowed slightly. "Continue," she said.

Steve smiled and shook his head. "First you have to tell me something." When she arched her brows in silent inquiry, he continued, "What is du Scheum to you?"

She was silent for a moment. Then, she drawled, "Personally? Or just in general?"

"Both."

"Why?" she asked, crossing her arms. "What does that have to do with you?"

"Everything, Lena. I don't want to find you in his arms when I sneak into his bedroom to kill him." Steve saw that he had startled her with his threat. The blue of her eyes deepened to almost violet as she stared at him. "Is there something between you and him?"

"Are you going to kill off every man I ever slept with?" she challenged.

"No, just the future ones." He sat up, determined to press home his point. "It's me and no one else, Lena. I'm not going to have you playing pearl necklaces with other men."

"Do you think you can stop me?" Marlena got off the sofa and looked down disdainfully at him. "Do I ask you about your women? Or your past? Do I look like the type you can dictate terms to?"

"Come here," Steve ordered softly.

Marlena stiffened at the quiet command. How dare he play territorial male with her? She should just leave him sitting there. He held out a hand, and after a slight hesitation she took a few steps closer and placed her hand in his. "Don't think this is going to be a habit," she warned, as he pulled her onto his lap. She should resist, but she didn't.

"Tell me about du Scheum," he said in the same tone of voice.

She had never taken the time to study his face before. She wanted to dissect every little thing that made him so different from other men. The way his eyes glinted with a knowing gleam when he looked at her. The way the dimple in his chin deepened when he smiled. How he plucked his lower lip when he was deep in thought. How one dark eyebrow, a little higher than the other, gave him that rakish air that hid the serious side of him. Little things like that.

It was a face she enjoyed looking at, even when it had that stubborn expression that she was beginning to recognize. When Steve McMillan wanted something, he went for it and hung on like a bulldog.

"It was a long time ago," she finally said. She ran her fingers lightly up his chest. "We're just close friends now. I was an orphan trying to get out of the projects and Pierre took care of me. He gave me a future."

His dark brows knitted together with undisguised displeasure. "He was too old for you then." He stroked a possessive hand up her back, digging his fingers into her hair. "And you can wipe that smile off your face."

"Stash darling, it was a long time ago," Marlena repeated, still smiling. She traced the frown on his forehead with a finger. "Besides, without Pierre you would never have met me. He was the one who sent me to GEM."

"What is he? The boss in Charlie's Angels?" Steve asked sarcastically. "He goes looking for hot chicks like you and T. and then he gives the thumbs-up to recruit them?"

She laughed at the image, then pulled his ear hard.

"What?" he growled, flicking his head away from her pinch.

"That's for noticing T. and labeling her a hot chick," she scolded. "And no, Pierre isn't part of GEM. He had the connections, and saw that I had the potential for my kind of work."

"What is that?" The scowl remained. "He just thought that you'd make a good a.s.sa.s.sin?"

"Darling, look at it this way. I had no schooling, no money unless I played mistress to some rich man, no family to help me out. I could have a boring job as a waitress or I could be trained to take care of myself." She shrugged. "I chose the second option and never regretted it. There are advantages to starting a new life. And I was perfect for GEM. The fewer family enc.u.mbrances the better. So next time you see Pierre, be nice to him. Without him, I would still be a naive woman with a Southern tw.a.n.g trying to make it."

"But you would still be a smart mouth."

"Oh yes, that, unfortunately, must be in the genes of whoever my parents were." Marlena smoothed away his soft hair from his forehead. "So, satisfied with the little story?"

"Not really. But it's a start. What about a significant other? I told you I wasn't married."

She considered lying, but tried evasion instead. "There's no one now," she said. At his frown, she sighed. "I'm not good at relations.h.i.+ps, Stash. They don't work well where I'm concerned. I've always been a loner, probably from being a wild child growing up, and don't trust easily. Men don't find me good girlfriend material."

She snuggled against him, and it felt so good. She hadn't snuggled like this since she was a kid. He hugged her closer, and she felt him kiss her forehead.

"What's good girlfriend material? You mean they don't like your cooking?"

She sniffed. "I can cook very well, thank you very much. Just not traditional stuff. If you think you're getting turkey for Thanksgiving and a white picket fence, et cetera, if you think I'll always run home in time to iron your s.h.i.+rt and dust the kitchen, if you're even planning on a Suburban with summer holidays at Disney, then you don't know me."

Oh, but Steve knew her. He was listening intently. Her last revelations were interesting; she was being defensive again, as if someone had tried to make her do all the things she mentioned. Some poor sot had tried to change his Marlena. Steve had no intention of doing that.

"h.e.l.l, Lena, I have been a SEAL all my adult life," he told her. "I can't do half the things normal people do. I have enough trouble trying to remember my mother's birthday in the middle of a gun battle. I understand where you're coming from, believe me."

Marlena sat up and kissed him. It was a slow, satisfying kiss, and for once they weren't fighting about who had the upper hand. It had a different kind of pa.s.sion, something indefinable that left him wanting so much more.

"So are we okay now with my past?" she asked solemnly. I can't tell you everything, Stash. You know that's the first rule in covert training."

Steve still felt jealous, but at least he now knew more about Marlena's background and where du Scheum stood with her. He supposed no one could ever truly let go of one's first lover, as du Scheum obviously was to Marlena. He scowled again. Cradle s.n.a.t.c.her. He couldn't help it. Marlena made him feel possessive in the worst way.

"You going to tell me about what you found out at your office today?"

He understood she changed the subject on purpose because he was probing too close again, but they had gone a lot further than he had antic.i.p.ated, so he was willing to let it go for now. "I saw your Pierre going up into the secured floors in our building today."

Marlena c.o.c.ked her head. "Pierre meets with many different people because he's always trying to curry government contracts. That's how he gets to be so influential."

"Only the top bra.s.s give out the contracts, Lena. My department deals with information, not government contracts. The only thing du Scheum can get from TIARA is buying and selling of information."

"You think Pierre knows the leak?"

"He could be the top suspect, don't you think?"

She slowly shook her head. "I don't think so."

"Maybe that's because you're too close," Steve suggested.

She tensed slightly on his lap. "I never get too close to anybody," she said, and this time Steve knew he had said the wrong thing. She was no longer soft and pliant in his arms, and her eyes were smoldering flames of blue. "I've taught myself to weigh every situation-"

"Percentages and probabilities," he interrupted, using her favorite maxim.

"That's right." Her mouth curled derisively. "If we want to talk about emotions in the way, how about your jealousy blinding you to facts?"

"Facts? I've got plenty of facts. I checked out du Scheum, Lena. He gives TIARA freebies all the time."

"So?"

"Look, tell me something. How were you able to dismantle all those electronic eyes and bugs we installed? It's because you recognized the type, didn't you? Du Scheum's company had the contract for the latest micro surveillance and thermal cameras and that's why you could so quickly dispose of all the equipment."

Marlena shrugged. "So?" she asked again.

"So he has access to TIARA. He deals with electronics, so he has to have cla.s.sified access codes. Then whoever monitors the equipment for TIARA could easily be paid to work for him. At the party I saw him deep in conversation with some very interesting characters, some who might be interested in TIARA intel. So he sells. You tell me that isn't a possibility, Lena. I would say there is a high percentage of him being a leak."

She didn't say anything as she sat there, staring back at him. "Everything in that laptop is a collaboration between his and the government's scientists," she told him. "There was no need to steal it at the conference, then offer it up for bid."

"A setup," Steve said.

"You're saying Cunningham isn't the culprit, that what he said that night was all lies?"

"Well, I haven't thought it out that far yet," Steve conceded, "but it was in du Scheum's house and he didn't seem very surprised or upset."

"Pierre seldom shows that kind of emotion," Marlena said, but she was frowning now. "He wouldn't need to use me, Stash. Those parties and meetings are his. No, I've known him too long. If he had planned to abscond with Project X-S-BOT, he would have done so without the need of this charade."

"You still care about him," Steve accused, temper rising. Why couldn't she see how illogical she was? "You'll try to let him off scot-free while he continues to betray our organizations."

Her temper flared just as quickly. She jumped off his lap and started to walk away.

"Where are you going?" he called after her.

"It's obvious we're going nowhere with this teamwork," she said, turning to face him, hands on her hips. "We can't even talk about the operation without you getting uppity about the fact that Pierre du Scheum and I have a past. Well listen, Steve McMillan. Just because we sleep together now doesn't give you the right to question my judgment or my ability to get the job done. If you think Pierre is the leak, bring me the evidence; don't cajole me into accepting your verdict just because you like it that way. I can make similar cases with Harden, with Cam, with everyone in that office, but without evidence, it's nothing."

Steve took in a deep breath. Maybe he did overdo the jealous lover bit. "Come back here, Lena. Let's start over. We'll go through the list of names one by one, and this time I promise I won't interrogate you or your past."

"Later. I want to be alone now." She turned to go, then turned back again. "And you're using the spare bedroom. I want my s.p.a.ce back."

Steve watched her stalk away, fighting the urge to get off his seat and go after her. She needed s.p.a.ce, so he would give it to her. He didn't think she was going to try out that recipe she was reading for him. He had tons of files to read in his laptop anyway. He had DVDs of the tapes of Marlena in her apartment to review. He needed to get all the facts together and present them like a soldier, not a lover. Once this thing was out of the way, then he stood a better chance with her. He smiled ironically at the thought. She would like that-he was starting to think of them in terms of probabilities and percentages, too.

Marlena remained in her room while he ate alone. Room service wasn't bad, but he wished he didn't have to eat by himself. He looked at the closed door of her bedroom. He wanted to be with her, but h.e.l.l, a man had his pride. She wanted her s.p.a.ce, so be it.

Later he lay in bed, laptop on his lap, files and folders strewn all over. He would much prefer to be doing other things in bed, he thought, tapping the down arrow on the keyboard as he read. He would much prefer to hoist an AK-47 and run through the jungle chasing real enemies than shadows. He would much prefer...

The door opened. He glanced up. His room was in semidarkness as he was using just the bedside lamp. The backlight from the hallway illuminated her figure as she stood in the doorway. His breath hitched while he lay there waiting for her to speak. He could see every womanly curve of her body through her nightie. Hot images of what that body felt like under him invaded his mind, replacing dull facts and file links. He leaned back against the big soft pillow and tried to relax. He couldn't contain a rueful smile when the laptop slid sideways, falling to his side. How could he relax when the sight of her woke up the part of him that had suddenly developed enough Herculean strength to throw aside laptops and files? He didn't attempt to hide the telltale bulge tenting the bedsheets. h.e.l.l, he was in his room.

She took a step in. "I can't sleep," she said, her voice very soft.

"Why not?"

"The bed is too big." She took another step into his room.

"You come in here, you're in my s.p.a.ce," Steve warned. "And in my s.p.a.ce, I rule."

She kicked the door shut with one bare foot.

Eyes closed, Marlena wriggled on top of the pillow as teasing fingers drew patterns on her naked back. The man could drive her wild with his tongue and hands. She could almost forgive herself for giving in to her needs last night and coming into his domain. As he had said, he ruled in his s.p.a.ce. Totally. What he did to her had her seriously considering the possibility that he had been trained, like some operatives she knew, to imprint women, making them s.e.xually responsive to his touch.

She was feeling too sated to attempt to a.n.a.lyze the situation anymore. She always preferred to sleep alone, but last night she had swallowed her pride and gone to Steve because, of all things, her bed felt bare without him. If she thought about it really hard, she knew she would start doing something totally uncharacteristic of Marlena Maxwell. She would start panicking.

"What are you writing?" she asked, more to stop the disturbing direction of her thoughts than anything else. His fingers were tracing words on her back. Eyes still closed, she followed the letters, frowning as she mentally formed the words. "My mermaid?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"What does that mean?"

"I had a lot of M words to describe Marlena Maxwell," he explained, "but this stuck."

She couldn't see anything mermaidlike about herself. "Mermaid?" she asked again. She turned her head a little, opening an eye. "You think I'm a fishy woman? Are you insulting me?"