Cold Light of Day (14 page)

O
h, my
God.
Scarlett’s jaw dropped. “Did someone just blow up your boat?”

“Yeah. Hush.” He pressed a finger to her lips and she stared at him stupidly. She must have been shouting but was too deafened to know it. His heart thudded reassuringly strong against her chest as he kept her pressed tight against him.

“How did you know we had to get out of there?” She tried to keep her voice to a whisper as the pressure equalized in her ears.

“I’ve laid a thousand charges on a thousand hulls—I recognized the sound but I’d never heard it on my boat before.” He shrugged as if his instinctive reaction hadn’t just saved both their lives. “Underwater demolition is a SEAL specialty, remember?”

She gaped at him. He was taking this so calmly, “But someone just blew up your
boat
.” Her eyes bugged. “They were trying to kill me, weren’t they?”

Matt nodded. “That’s twice in twelve hours. Didn’t figure they’d include me and my damn boat though.”

“Former boat.”
Oh, my God.
“Do you have insurance?”

He frowned, but amusement lit the depths of his hazel eyes. “Not sure it covers this, but yeah, I have insurance.”

This was all her fault. “I’ll buy you a new boat, Special Agent Lazlo.” The man had just saved her life
again
. “How much do they cost?” She had no idea. “I’ll probably need to get a loan.”

“We’ll worry about that later.” He took her hand, still keeping low as they jumped down onto the shoreline and then cut up behind some trees.

“I told you you had a hero complex,” she said shakily.

His eyes were cataloguing her features. Looking to see how she was holding up. Not very well, as it happened. “One damsel-in-distress rescued. Check.” The edge of his mouth kicked up. “Keeping up my daily quota.”

The guy had just lost his home, but he was joking with her even though it was her fault. He was nuts. She came to a standstill. Put her hand over her mouth as the enormity of what had happened hit her. “This is awful. I don’t know what to do.”

He put a hand on each shoulder. “You know what they say in the teams, Scarlett?” It was the first time he’d said her name with anything but derision.

She shook her head.

“The only easy day was yesterday.”

“Yesterday
sucked
,” she reminded him.

“You survived, didn’t you? And today’s already off to a great start.”

“Yay?” she whispered uncertainly.

He urged her to keep moving. “We made it through another attempt on your life and, assuming we stay out of sight, it’ll be a while until they know they failed.” They were walking fast along a back road. He tucked her under his arm and urged her to move faster. They looked like young lovers out for an early morning stroll—obviously the illusion he was going for. It felt nice to be held like this, protected and cherished, in a way she’d never experienced. She couldn’t afford to get used to it.

“Still want to turn yourself in to Dorokhov?”

The Russian seriously wanted her dead and she had no idea why—well, aside from breaking into his office and trying to spy on him. There was that word again.
Spy
. It made her brain hurt.

The man had kidnapped her best friend and tried to kill her
twice
. Damn. “I don’t think he’s going to accept my apology, is he?”

“No, I don’t think he’s going to accept your apology, Scarlett.” Matt agreed.

Her life was over.

She had no clue if she was even going to make it to Christmas Day. She kept that thought to herself. No point sharing her pity-fest with a man who’d give her a pep talk about sucking it up. She’d suck it up until she fell apart or died—that didn’t mean that inside she wasn’t self-destructing with terror.

An idea took hold. “Do you think he thinks I found something to incriminate him and absolve my father?”

Matt gave her an exasperated look and his arm tightened across her shoulders. “I think you pissed him off and the crazy bastard thinks he’s powerful enough to get away with murder.”

“So what do you think I should do?” She was asking for advice from a man who’d arrested her and then had his home destroyed. Logically he might not be impartial, but logic had disappeared ever since she’d slipped into that party under an assumed name.

“You need to disappear for a while.”

She thought of her work. Her job was all she had and now she’d put it in jeopardy. Despair expanded inside her. “That’s not going to be easy.”

“Hey, it could be worse.” He gave her a squeeze, which felt so natural and so right, it sent a bolt of regret through her.

“How?”

“You could be in jail.” His smile was half-hearted. “Actually you might be better off locked up.”

“If I kick you, will you slap on the cuffs again, Agent Lazlo?”

“Don’t tempt me, Dr. Stone. Don’t tempt me.” But the twinkle in his eye was gone, and he was obviously thinking about the fact someone had just tried to kill her and hadn’t minded taking him and all his worldly goods along with her. Nothing like a dose of reality to bring you back down to earth with a bang.

*     *     *

Raminski bent and
tugged the zip on his drysuit, enjoying the pull as it worked its way across his shoulders. He whistled soundlessly as he stripped off the neoprene, black pants and shirt underneath, both slightly damp after his long swim.

The call at the warehouse last night had been from someone who’d tracked down FBI Agent Matt Lazlo. Once Sergio discovered the federal agent lived on a boat, all his prayers had been answered.

Americans were not the only ones to train in underwater demolition.

FLIR thermal imaging cameras had identified two people onboard the sailboat. Given the two beverage cups from a Central DC coffee shop in the front seat of his government issue car, and a hat, very like the one Scarlett Stone had worn in the park last night, sitting on the dash, Sergio was pretty sure she was the smaller of the two heat sources. Or, rather, she had been.

After attaching the limpet mine to the hull of FBI Agent Lazlo’s yacht, Sergio had swam out of the harbor and around the headland to where he’d left his vehicle. He’d felt the boom when he’d set off the bomb, but he’d been far enough away not to be bothered by the impact, largely absorbed by the sea wall. Lazlo was regrettable collateral damage, but who knew what the Stone woman had told the FBI Special Agent.

Leaving him alive was too big a risk.

Sergio slicked the cold Atlantic out of his hair as the sirens grew louder and more insistent. The breeze was frigid and he shivered. He stowed the drysuit in the trunk along with the rest of his gear. Job done. Now he had to get back to work. Sergio Raminski had duties that couldn’t be put aside. And later he had to check on the prisoner. Make sure she was still alive and no one had touched her. Hopefully he could arrange her release just as soon as he informed Dorokhov about Scarlett Stone’s death.

He didn’t allow himself to feel remorse for killing the woman. She’d been an active part in the game. A willing participant. Angelina LeMay however was a woman who’d been in the wrong place with the wrong friend. She was an innocent and he’d never enjoyed seeing innocents suffer. Maybe that was why he was doing what he was doing. Maybe that was why he was risking his own life by crossing not just the Russian Ambassador, but the entire Russian Federation.

*     *     *

Matt force-marched Scarlett
along the road. He needed to get her out of sight ASAP and talk to Frazer. Having his boat blown to smithereens pissed him off, but he channeled that anger into the more important issue of getting this woman somewhere safe. At least he’d finally convinced her not to hand-deliver herself to Dorokhov, but that could change if she found out the truth about Angel LeMay.

The HRT team was still on standby awaiting a ransom demand. Something told Matt the ransom would be the young woman tucked warmly into his side—or at least news of her death.

They dodged around a factory and some residential housing, listening to the sound of sirens piercing the air as they slogged through a field of frosted grass that crunched underfoot. He considered heading to the TacOps site, not far away, but Scarlett didn’t have security clearance. Although he didn’t think she had an agenda beyond redeeming her father, he wasn’t about to break protocol or risk exposing his colleagues. There was too much at stake.

He hoped to hell none of his neighbors had been hurt in the explosion. It was winter, and no one except him used their boats for full-time accommodation on that side of the pier. Still, boats either side of his would have been damaged and maybe sunk. Fucking Russians.

Scarlett tripped and he anchored his arm more securely around her shoulders. He liked the feel of her pressed up against him, even though it was a one-off situation. A cover. Might as well enjoy it. The rest of the morning sucked but at least they were still alive.

Being in the teams had taught him to appreciate the good things in life and not get stuck on the bad. Shit happened. Every. Single. Day.

It took fifteen minutes to reach his intended destination and by the time they got there, Scarlett was breathing heavily, almost running to keep up with his much longer stride. He didn’t have time to be courteous and slow down for her. Her life depended on them both getting out of sight as fast as possible.

He guided Scarlett to the rear door of the nursing home where his mother now lived. He propped her up next to a bush near a fire exit. “I’m going to go in the front door. I’ll check in. Give me five minutes and I’ll let you in through this fire door.”

She grabbed his arm, eyes a little desperate. “Won’t it be alarmed?” Her hair was a mess and she wasn’t wearing any make-up. Those brown eyes of hers were so dark they were almost black, and she had freckles that were only visible up close.
Freckles
. Freckles were a killer, as were soft shell-pink lips.

“I’ve got it covered.”

She nodded. He stared at her.

On the surface, she was pretty, but nothing spectacular. Girl-next-door beauty that he saw every day in the course of his work. So, what was it about this woman that had called to him from the very start? He’d thought it was the heels or the dress, but even now, mussed up and in jeans, he wanted to pull her close and place his lips upon hers.

What had Frazer said about Scarlett?
Don’t get attached?
The guy knew what he was talking about. Annoyed with his reaction, he took a step back and she dropped her hand. The expression on her face became more uncertain the longer he continued to stare. He shook his head to clear it. Not the time to be thinking about women. He had a job to do.

“Wait here,” he ordered. He walked around the front of the nursing home—Glen Lawn—and into reception, past a fake Christmas tree covered with more tinsel than Hollywood. There was no camera surveillance out front. Just a buzzer and an alarm system.

“Hello there, Matt. You’re here early.” The friendly voice belonged to Rhonda, an RN who generally took the nightshift.

“Hey, Rhonda.” He leaned over the counter and gave her a smile. She was good people. “I wanted to check in on Mom before work.” Realistically he had no idea when this goatfuck would be resolved. Not that Scarlett was his responsibility. He
could
just hand her off. But the assholes had upped the stakes by blowing up his boat, trying to kill an FBI agent who also happened to be a decorated former Navy SEAL. That should get the authorities hollering. “I have something I want to bring in through the side door—will you disarm the alarm for me?” They did this all the time for heavy objects as that fire door was closer to the rooms.

“No worries.” She flicked a switch. “No change, I’m afraid. Your mom had a peaceful night.”

After more than seven hundred days of the same, he hadn’t expected anything else. “Thanks. I won’t be long.” Matt nodded and walked away.

“Merry Christmas, Matt.”

He paused. Even with all the shiny decorations, he’d forgotten it was Christmas Eve. He’d never been a big fan of the holidays, too many reminders of his father, or lack of one. “Merry Christmas, Rhonda.”

He pushed through the double doors into one of the main corridors, down the end, turned right, then opened the side door and motioned Scarlett inside. She was the perfect picture of woebegone and he felt a twinge of compassion that battled with the knowledge she’d brought it all on herself. She started this, but the Russians sure as hell wanted to finish it.

He didn’t like bullies, didn’t like men going after innocent women and children—although calling Scarlett innocent was a stretch. Naïve, definitely. Innocent? He flashed back to that image of her retrieving that damn screwdriver and felt himself getting hard. He set his teeth and ignored the problem.

“Why are we here?” she asked quietly.

It was barely six AM and the halls were empty.

He put his finger to his lips and took her hand. He told himself it was expediency, nothing to do with savoring the feel of her slim fingers against his. He tugged her along and she half-ran to keep up. The best way of keeping Scarlett Stone out of trouble, he decided, would be by keeping her off balance. Giving her too much time to think would be a mistake.