Classified (7 page)

“How long have you been a private investigator?”

“Going on two years now.”

“Before that?”

“Security analyst with the government.” He stole a glance her way. “You haven’t told me what you do.” Sooner or later she was going to tell him to stop his harping.

He felt reasonably sure a full minute passed and she hadn’t answered. She had the upper hand—and the only gun—and he knew she intended to keep both.

“If I tell you,” she said after another long minute, “the dynamics of our partnership will be significantly altered. Is that what you want?”

Levi braked to a stop. He didn’t bother pulling over to the side of the road. There was no traffic in either direction for as far as the eye could see.

More of those hushed seconds ticked off without her meeting his gaze and he wasn’t saying what he had to say until she did.

He waited her out. She relented and turned her face to his. Finally he said, “It doesn’t matter who you work for or where you come from. What matters is that we made a deal to find what we came for. Is that good with you?” This game had grown monotonous.

She nodded. “Yes.”

He lifted his foot from the brake and hit the road once more.

Accomplishing this mission was the goal.

That was all either of them needed to know.

6:48 a.m.

Casey needed caffeine. Right now.

They were approximately forty minutes outside the city.

She might make it that long.

She glanced over at her partner. He’d crashed an hour ago. Casey had gotten an hour or so of sleep the first leg of the journey. She’d watched Stark fight the need for sleep until she’d threatened to drag out the Beretta if he didn’t pull over. Men. They refused to admit any suggestion of weakness.

Finally he had surrendered and she’d taken the wheel. Not a minute too soon, apparently. The big tough P.I. had been dead to the world ten minutes later.

Now that it was nearly daylight Casey’s wicked side had been distracting her with the urge to study the man. Good thing there was no traffic. That vein of sheer feminine greed she’d failed to tame just wouldn’t let her have any peace. Yes, the guy was pure eye candy. No denying that. He’d stretched out those long legs, snakeskin boots propped on the rusty old dash. The jeans he wore embraced his body with the same enthusiasm as an ambitious lover.

No man should look that good in blue jeans. And yet he definitely did.

The need to know more about him was eating her up. But getting answers required giving answers. Not an option. A frown creased her brow. Sometimes she felt…lonely. Okay, she’d allowed the word to fully form in her brain without her mother’s prodding. Maybe that knock on the head had rattled more than she’d realized. Ached like the devil, that was for sure.

The day she’d graduated from UCLA she’d been hired on as an intern at the Agency. Having a father and an uncle who were high on the food chain had ensured her a spot. Three years later a transition into field operations hadn’t gone over quite so well with her family. Casey hadn’t let that stop her. Nothing had ever stopped her. Work was her life.

Relationships were repetitive and needy.

Her errant gaze once again drifted from the road to the man sleeping next to her. What fun was conforming one’s life around the needs of another? Especially when no one could really be trusted. Not like that. She’d had her share of dates and mini-relationships and, just like the last one, they were more trouble than recreation. Uncle Thomas’s single status said it all. Lucas had stayed single until he was fifty when he took the plunge for the first time and married Victoria. Why should Casey be any different?

Her mother warned that the closer she grew to thirty, the stronger the urge to procreate would become. Well, she hadn’t said it exactly like that but the idea was the same. Casey had absolutely no compulsion to have children. Her work was too demanding.
She
was too demanding.

Kids. Husbands. No thanks.

Her mother was wrong.

Loneliness was a state of mind. Like any other, it would show up from time to time and she simply had to show it who was boss. Relationships and all the required posturing weren’t real. If a woman had to be someone else to keep her man happy, what kind of fulfillment was that? The need for physical contact, on the other hand, proved a little more relentless.

Levi Stark was not a good candidate for satisfying that feral instinct.

He roused. Speak of the devil. “Have a nice nap?” She braced for the warm, deep tones of his voice, then stretched her aching neck as if the battle was already lost. Her head must have been hanging like a limp doll’s the entire hour she slept.

“We almost there?” Stark sat up and looked around.

Casey kept her attention on the road, but that little unruly streak that thrived in the DNA of her species wouldn’t allow her not to sneak peeks from the corner of her eyes. “Almost.” She tried to relax. “I could use some coffee, how about you?”

“Oh yeah. You want me to drive now?”

He was looking at her. She swallowed, tried not to inhale his scent. Funny thing was, she smelled like she needed a shower and he just smelled…good.

“I’ve got it.” She mentally ticked off the names of all her cousins and their spouses and all the ups and downs those couples had suffered. Not a good way to discourage the random thoughts bombarding her head since somehow they always stayed together. Was Stark a good kisser? Skilled in bed? Frustrated, she moved on to the characters in her favorite novel. The idea that they all ended up happily ever after canceled that method for distracting herself as well. People were just weird and set in their ways. Why was it necessary to be one of a pair?

The forlorn glow of lights spotlighting a row of low buildings coming up on the right did the trick. The sign advertising gas prices loomed above the others, focusing her scattered thoughts on the need for fuel. For the truck and for them.

“We should get fuel.” She slowed the truck and considered the storefronts in the hopes they opened early. A few scattered vehicles and welcoming interior lights gave her the answer she wanted. “Here we go.” She guided the truck into the parking lot and rolled up to the gas pumps.

“I’ll get it.” He opened his door.

Casey grabbed her bag and slid out of the truck. Her body ached from four hours on that hard, ragged seat. “I’ll go inside and pay.” And use the facilities. Assuming they had public restrooms.

Stark removed the cap from the gas tank. “Roger that.”

Don’t look at his eyes. Don’t say anything else. Just go inside.

Casey straightened her skirt and smoothed her blouse. She looked like she’d had a rough night. Thankfully the skirt’s dark color masked the dirt. The precariously hanging hem wasn’t going to be camouflaged. Chill bumps tumbled across her skin right behind the caress of the crisp morning air. She hugged Stark’s jacket closer around her and immediately regretted it. Wearing the jacket was like having him wrapped around her. The sun couldn’t rise quickly enough to suit Casey.

As she neared the entrance to the gas station the distinct odor of meat frying made her stomach rumble. She craned her neck to verify that there was a small café next door.

Outstanding. She was beyond starving.

“Hola, señorita,”
the guy behind the counter called as she entered the gas station. He looked American, sounded that way, too. His butchering of the local language had the two locals loitering by the counter laughing at him. She wondered if he understood their unflattering remarks.

“Hola.”
She scanned the room.
“Bano publico?”

The station attendant hitched a thumb toward the corridor behind him. “No paper in the toilets,” he reminded her in perfect English. His two buddies sniggered and made crude remarks in Spanish as to what Casey was good for.

She smiled, realizing that she didn’t have the energy to break their kneecaps, then walked purposefully past the counter and all three oglers.
Pigs.

The bathroom wasn’t as bad as she’d expected but that wasn’t saying a lot. She did her business, remembered the warning about the paper though she couldn’t see how anything this thin could stop up even twisted Mexican plumbing.

There was no soap but she scrubbed her hands and face anyway. The cool water felt good on her skin. Her hair was a tangled mess. It took some doing to smooth it out. She tucked the brush back into her bag and evaluated her reflection one final time. Not so bad considering. She smoothed her hand over the lightweight summer wool of Stark’s jacket. The silk lining felt cool and yet somehow warm against her skin.

Casey shook her head at her reflection. Pathetic.

An extra tug was required to get the door open. Decades of paint and neglect had taken its toll. She jerked it open and came face-to-face with one of the deadbeats who’d been hanging around the counter.

“Need some help,
señorita?
”

The guy wasn’t bad to look at. And he was dressed decently, clean. But obviously he had defective gray matter. “Not in this lifetime,
tonto.
”

He dared to brace himself in the doorway. “A feisty one.”

Casey smiled. “You have no idea.” She prepared to knee him in the family jewels but he suddenly moved. His body wrenched backward as if a cyclone had sucked him into its center.

Stark pinned him against the wall opposite her. “That’s the ladies’ room, mister. Maybe you should get your eyes checked.”

The guy held his hands up surrender style. “No trouble,
señor
. My mistake.”

Stark shoved him aside. “I don’t think you want to make that mistake again.”

Casey folded her arms over her chest and waited for Stark to face her. When he did she mentally squirmed from the intensity in his emerald eyes. “I had that under control, you know.”

“Never said you didn’t.”

He disappeared into the men’s room. Casey stared at the beat-up door for a moment. What kind of answer was that? Whatever.

Frustrated, confused, tired, hungry. There were numerous reasons for her irrational behavior. She explored the small store until she found the bottled water. All three of the men stationed around the counter stared at her but not one said a word. It wasn’t like Stark had kicked the guy’s butt. Maybe it was something about the ferocity in his eyes that had been enough. Sheesh, she was going overboard about his eyes. There had to be something else far less hazardous she could obsess about.

Food. Her stomach rumbled again. They were here. They should eat.

The two interlopers backed off as she bellied up to the counter and paid for the gas and the two bottles of water. Stark showed up in time to open the door for her. How nice. Nice. Nice. Nice. He would be a much easier to ignore partner if he weren’t so flipping nice.

“We should eat.” The fragrant smells were stronger now. She was starving.

Stark considered the small café and shrugged. “Smells good. Why not?” He gestured to the screen door that served as an entrance to the establishment. “Grab a table and I’ll move the truck.”

Worked for Casey. She passed him the bottles of water. His fingers grazed hers in the transaction. She shook like she’d awakened to an earthquake. Hoped he didn’t notice.

As he walked away she hugged her arms around herself. The still cool air whipped around her bare legs. Who wouldn’t shiver? Without the sun it was downright cold. Just stop picking at it, Casey. She headed for the café.
Come on, sun,
she urged. She was not a fan of cold. How Lucas and Victoria tolerated Chicago weather she would never understand.

Speaking of Lucas, as soon as she had cell service or a hotel phone she needed to check in with him. Give him an update on what she had so far. But she’d need privacy from Stark to do that. Maybe she’d have Lucas check Stark out. Then she wouldn’t have to worry about giving answers of her own.

The screen door whined as it opened, then slammed behind her. Two men had claimed one table. Across the room another accommodated a couple. Faded signs from similar joints on both sides of the border decorated the yellowed walls. The long row of windows that lined the front no longer sported curtains but the rod that had once held them remained, collecting dust. Most of the chairs presented had one leg too short, while the vacant tabletops lamented years of unkind treatment. The tile floor was uneven and in need of a serious scrubbing but the awesome smells emanating from the kitchen made up for all that and then some.

The waitress greeted Casey with a smile and told her to take the table of her choice. She selected the one closest to the back of the dining space and the employees-only kitchen entrance, then settled into a chair facing the front of the place. Better to have one’s back to the wall and eyes to the front if one was to be prepared for an unexpected attack.

Stark walked in, only he didn’t let the screen slam as she had. He surveyed the place, spotted her and headed that way, moving as soundlessly as smoke and every bit as smoothly.

Despite her best efforts, she watched him move, enjoying the show on far too many levels. She really had to figure this being-single thing out. It was as if dumping the cheating knucklehead she’d dated for a month had somehow tripped some sort of running-out-of-time sensor. Shaking her head to clear it, she picked up a menu and stared at the words, blurred by memorized images of Stark striding toward her.

He pulled out a chair and sat down. “Anything appealing on the menu?”

“
Huevos rancheros
sound good to you?” It was the first item on the menu and the only one she’d actually read at this point. No need for him to know this.

“Just about anything sounds good right now.”

His gaze settled on hers and she quivered inside. Casey looked away. She was shaking only because she was starving, she told herself. She flagged down the waitress and ordered the food and coffee along with juice.

“We’re only about half an hour from the city.” He leaned back in his chair. “Hotel first?”

She faced him and wished she hadn’t. They’d traveled all those hours in the dark with scarcely the ability to see anything. Now, as the sun climbed above the mountaintops, its warm rays reaching through the glass, she couldn’t stop inventorying the details of his face. The day’s beard growth looked appealing on him. The lack of sleep didn’t even show. Instead of looking haggard, he looked rumpled and as sexy as—

The waitress plunked two mugs of coffee on the table, then two glasses of juice. She promised to be right back with their meals.

“Gracias.”
Stark gifted her with a smile that had the waitress floating back to the counter.

Casey had made a terrible mistake. She had miscalculated her ability to ignore her mother’s recently amplified brainwashing efforts. Clearly that was the only answer to her current behavior. That and sleep deprivation and frustration. How many times was she going to inventory those excuses?

“Hotel first. Yes.” She nodded enthusiastically.
Imbecile!

The food arrived and saved her from herself. Casey dove into the eggs, refried beans and tomato-chili sauce with slices of avocado and guacamole. The juice was a heavenly blend of beets, carrots and cucumbers. But the best was the rich, dark coffee with just a touch of cinnamon. Just like the little Mexican place back home in L.A. made. Dinner there had been a Wednesday night ritual in the Manning household.