Covert Attraction (5 page)

The Identity Division allowed Treena to help those in need leave their perilous lives despite their inability to produce evidence that would get them into witness protection. Via the TU, Treena gave the successful petitioners each a new identity for their protection. She directed an elite undercover CIU team to find that evidence in their stead.

Real evidence, not the hearsay or circumstantial or logical speculation that the petitioners usually came in with.

Evidence that would lead to the arrest and conviction of the people terrorizing them.

And she had been extremely fortunate in obtaining funding, via official sources, grants, rewards for capture and prosecution of the guilty, and even donations from some of those people the ID Division had saved and who had gone on to better lives. She hadn’t had to scrimp on any of the many activities in which the division engaged, including protection and investigation.

Now Treena glanced at the wall to her right, in the direction of the White House. It didn’t hurt that her cousin—distant, yes, but family just the same—happened to be POTUS, the president of the United States.

Enough rehashing, she finally told herself. Time to plan.

She stood to look out the window toward Pennsylvania Avenue. She liked Agent Daniel McManus, thought he was more than able to handle his undercover assignment at Corcoris Pharmaceuticals. But when she had selected him and gotten him the training to seamlessly fit in at the company, she hadn’t counted on having a distraction possibly get in the way—in the form of Beth Jones.

Things could get even more interesting now. Might even work better. But in case they didn’t, she needed a plan.

* * *

“So how’s your sandwich?” Beth had just sat back down across from Daniel and picked up her fork.

He couldn’t say why exactly, but she looked different. Not as tense, maybe. Not as remote.

Which told him, rightly or wrongly, that she’d done as he had anticipated and called Judge Treena about him.

That could be a good thing. Or not.

“Good. I hope you don’t mind, but I took a bite of your salad. I think it’s better than my sandwich.”

He hadn’t taken a bite, but he wanted to see her reaction. The former Beth, before whatever she’d done in the past few minutes, wouldn’t have yelled at him, but she’d have appeared upset, no matter whether she tried to hide it. Tense. Unsure how to handle the situation.

This new Beth, though?

“You should have asked first. I’d have let you try it, but it’s my salad. My decision.” There was a belligerence in the way she stuck out her full lower lip ever so slightly. Daniel had never considered belligerence sexy, but he’d not seen it before on Beth Jones’s beautiful face.

“You’re right. Want any of my sandwich?”

“Yes,” she said. “Just a corner to try. One you haven’t already taken a bite out of.”

He wanted to smile. Even laugh. This conversation wasn’t about their lunch, but it was somehow about their relationship.

Hell, they had no relationship, although the thought struck him as provocative. No, what they had was interaction between two people who were business associates of sorts. Unwilling ones, at least from his perspective.

Unless she proved she could stay out of his way. Or better yet, coordinate what she was doing with him so they could both benefit.

She seemed to want some degree of control. He’d let her think she was achieving it...for now.

Unable to keep a small ironic grin off his face, he hid it by bending his head downward as he used a knife from the table to cut off an unnibbled corner of his sandwich. His look was utterly serious when he gazed back up at Beth and handed her the bite. “Now we’re even.”

He caught the merest sucking in of her lips as if she clearly wanted to dispute that. But didn’t.

“You know,” he said in a soft voice as he leaned toward her, “I think you and I have a lot in common. Wouldn’t you like to explore that?”

“Maybe.” She said the word so sexily that he felt his body react—and it reacted even more as she leaned across the table toward him, her lips enticingly apart as if she wanted to kiss him. “But first there’s something of yours I want to see.”

Okay, that really got to him. He nearly choked as he asked, “What?” She wasn’t far from him by then, and he leaned toward her, too.

“Your badge,” she whispered.

He blinked at her first, then laughed as he moved back. “So you did speak to...our mutual acquaintance.” He spoke equally softly. “I wondered.” He stood and walked around the table. When he was close to her, he bent so it looked as if he were reaching for the bottle of salad dressing on the table in front of her—even as he lifted something that no one else would be able to see from his pants pocket. He nodded toward that hand and let her glimpse his U.S. Marshals badge briefly before tucking it back in. And then, picking up the bottle, he returned to his seat.

“That is good salad dressing,” she said with a nod, and her smile then seemed pensive as she returned to eating lunch. She held the bite of sandwich he’d given her, studying it before placing it between her full, enticing lips.

“So are we on the same wavelength now?” he asked.

“I think so.” She kept close watch on her fork as she dipped it into her salad, clearly avoiding looking at him. She took a bite. “I like my salad better than your sandwich, too, though. Maybe we do have some tastes in common after all.” For a brief moment, her eyes met his searchingly.

He nodded slightly. “So maybe we should talk about those tastes.”

“Sure, we can do that. But not here.”

“Your place or mine?” he quipped—although he was somewhat serious. The woman turned him on.

But she just laughed. And common sense—not to mention all-too-real experience—said he should forget any sexual innuendos from either of them, concentrate only on getting them together to really talk. Not here where tables near them were starting to fill but someplace secure. And to talk only about what he knew they had in common, the stuff on the surface: compiling evidence against Corcoris Pharmaceuticals to ensure that whatever damage they’d been doing to people who were prescribed their medications and whatever they had done to Beth’s alter ego, Andrea Martinez, they’d never do any of it again.

For now, though, he decided to switch subjects. Sure, they needed to talk, but not here. At least not about anything important.

“You know, I’m pretty much a newcomer to Moravo Beach,” he said, resuming his undercover character somewhat—for now. “I just got here a few weeks ago to start my job at Corcoris. I’m originally from back East.” Which was true. He had grown up in upper New York State and now called the D.C. area home. “I really like this place and also my new job with Corcoris. Tell me something about yourself, Beth. Are you a Moravo Beach native?”

He hadn’t caught her off guard. She spun a tale about how she had grown up in Seattle but had decided to move away, and although she had higher aspirations, starting as a cleaning assistant for Corcoris was just fine since she hadn’t attended college. At least not yet.

That had to be her cover story. He knew why it was such a good one and why she recounted it so convincingly.

She’d had at least some of it handed to her by Judge Treena and had practiced it as part of her changed identity. But—

“You know,” she said as she finished her salad, “it’s time for me to get back to work. But I’ve been enjoying this conversation. Could we get together again later? Say, over dinner? At my place?”

Now, that was unexpected. But definitely welcome. There was a lot more they needed to discuss.

“Sure,” he said. “It’s a date.”

Chapter 5

B
eth walked through the back door at Corcoris and downstairs into the basement hallway to the cleaning-gear storage area. The area was empty, and with no distractions—for now—Beth rehashed the lunchtime she had just experienced.

Had she ended it foolishly by inviting the guy to her place to talk? Maybe, but with her discussion with Judge Treena she felt pretty confident about who he was— especially when he had shown his U.S. Marshals badge. And where else could they talk in private?

She could always change her mind. She hadn’t yet told him where she lived. But she would before they both left work.

She’d known exactly what was on Daniel McManus’s mind some of the time as he’d looked at her. Teased her. Led her on...about their lunch. And hinted, at least a bit, about things sexual. Which had also encouraged her to tease him.

She was surprised to realize she’d enjoyed it.

But it was what neither one of them said—there—that was most important.

Now she had arrived back at Corcoris. She had seen Daniel head to his car but she had driven off first, wanting to arrive alone. Neither had discussed how odd it might look if anyone saw them together, and the restaurant they had frequented was far enough away that it was unlikely they’d be seen by anyone who would recognize either of them.

If anyone did happen to see them and asked why they were hiding, it would be because a geeky tech guy wanting to get ahead at the company shouldn’t be going on dates with a lowly member of the cleaning crew. At least that was what Beth would say, and she figured that would also be Daniel’s position.

But the reality between them...that was why she had suggested dinner that night at her place.

She hadn’t spoken with anyone around there except an officious guy from the apartment building’s management company, and there was no manager on-site. She hadn’t been living there long, but she had managed to avoid all other tenants.

If she had a guest for the evening, no one would know. No one would care.

But even believing who Daniel was, she would remain cautious. And they really did need to talk.

Reaching the storeroom, Beth eased open the door. She had already removed the shirt she had worn to hide her cleaning-staff T-shirt. It was soft and gauzy and she had been able to stuff it back into her large handbag. She quickly turned to the computer on the table near the door and punched in to show she was back.

“There you are,” said a harsh voice off to her right. Beth didn’t have to look to see that it was her boss here, Mary Cantrera. The woman scowled at her as if she had taken all afternoon off or worse, but she had been gone only for the permitted hour.

“Hi,” Beth said softly, looking down at the room’s spotless floor. “Do you have an assignment for me?”

“I definitely do, and you should have started fifteen minutes ago.”

Beth didn’t bother trying to explain or excuse herself, or even to point out that the time program she had just punched in on showed she had been gone a few minutes less than her allotted hour. It would have done her no good—and she didn’t dare get any further on this woman’s bad side.

She didn’t want to be fired.

“Sorry. I’ll go right away.” Beth ignored the fact that a couple of other members of the staff—her cafeteria-cleaning buddies from this morning, in fact—were present, too, standing in a corner as if pretending they weren’t there.

Why hadn’t Mary sent Gabrielle or John on whatever mission this was?

No matter. Beth had to play the game.

“It’s lab 6, on the second floor. Apparently someone accidentally swept some collection vials and other things onto the floor. It’s already been checked to make sure nothing hazardous was spread around, but the glass is still there. Everyone else has other jobs already assigned to them, so that’s where you’re to go.”

“Right away,” Beth said. She collected her cart from along the wall, checked it for sufficient cleaning paraphernalia and solutions, and hurriedly pushed it out the door.

She took an elevator to the second floor.

The hallway there was a lot busier than the one she’d just left. At least six members of the lab staff in their white jackets walked hurriedly along, several heading in each direction. Beth kept her eyes on her cart, steering it carefully as she pushed it so as not to run into anyone.

She had an urge to check out faces. See if Daniel was among those who populated this hallway at the moment. But she didn’t want to meet the eyes of anyone.

Despite the complete strategic change in her appearance since she’d taken on her new life, she couldn’t help worrying that someone here might see Andrea in a glance, a habitual movement she hadn’t been aware of...anything.

Even so, if the person who recognized her happened to be her friend Milt Ranich, because he had returned and was all right, maybe her being identified wouldn’t be as bad as she feared—as long as he kept it to himself.

But she doubted that would be an issue. She hadn’t seen Milt since her return, or any sign of him.

She reached the door of the lab where she had been assigned, checked the number on the door and pushed it open. Since this wasn’t one of the sterile rooms where critical tests and experiments were conducted, she was able to enter without changing clothes, covering her feet or taking on a new cart.

As she pushed her cart inside, she swallowed a gasp. This didn’t look like some minor mishap where a container or two had inadvertently gotten pushed off one of the sterile counters.

No, this room looked as if some kind of tornado had swept through it.

This looked like intentionally inflicted damage. Beth wanted to know what had happened. And why.

And, definitely, who.

For now, though, she needed to get to work, even though cleaning this mess looked like a job for more than one person. With a sigh, she scanned the room, deciding on the best approach to take. If she could at least get the layers of glass swept up first—

“What the hell?” A familiar voice interrupted her musings.

She turned to see Daniel standing there, his glasses and white lab jacket turning him into the geeky techie she’d seen here before. But his shoulders were stiff, his expression angry.

“My sentiments exactly,” she said. Then more softly, “Any idea what caused this?”

“I heard rumors when I arrived that one of the guys upstairs wasn’t pleased with some test results here, but I didn’t expect this.”

“Corcoris?” Beth mouthed, not wanting anyone else to hear her speculation even though they were alone in here.

Daniel shrugged as he whispered, “Could be.” He continued in a louder voice as if expecting what he said to be picked up by a security camera, “It’s okay. We’ll deal with it.”

“But I was sent here to clean it up,” Beth contradicted.

“Alone?” He glared at her with his flashing blue eyes as if it were her choice, her fault.

“That’s what I was told.”

“That’s not what I was told. Hold on here.”

“No, wait—” she began, but it was too late. He was already outside the door once more.

Damn. Even if she wasn’t the one making waves, she didn’t need anyone to make them on her behalf. Call attention to her.

Quelling her initial panic, she decided she would just do as ordered as quickly as she could. She began the initial steps of sweeping up the irregular mounds of jagged glass until she could at least see more of the linoleum.

She began slowly, then got into a rhythm, using a push broom to move some of the shards into a pile, then scooping them into one of the large metal dustpans and finally emptying them into the large garbage can lined with a plastic bag that occupied most of the cart. Fortunately, the liquids that had spilled were not sticky and she was able to use paper towels to mop them up, then cleanse where they had been with cleaning products she’d brought in on the cart. She had to work around the bases of the lab’s tables and storage cabinets and its few chairs, but that didn’t slow her—much.

She had gotten only perhaps a quarter of the floor cleared when the lab door opened again.

Daniel was there. And so were John and Gabrielle. “These guys offered to help you,” Daniel said in a cheery voice. “I told them how awful this looked and that I really needed to work in here by the end of the day. I explained what a great job you’re doing, but there’s just so much to do that you needed help.”

She wanted to object, but in some ways she was glad to see them. Only— “I had it under control. Mary said you had other projects you’re scheduled for this afternoon.” Her eyes were on her two cleaning coworkers. Fortunately, neither appeared angry—just overwhelmed by what this room looked like, as she had been.

“It’s okay, Beth,” Gabrielle said. “We just had our usual scheduled stuff—the downstairs halls and labs up on the third floor. But when one of the lab guys like Daniel begs Mary for help...well, that’s important. She asked if we were okay with working here, and we were.”

Beth glanced at John for confirmation. His quick nod told her he wasn’t complaining, either.

“Thanks to both of you,” she said. “All of you.” This time she encompassed Daniel in her gaze.

After the others went back into the hall for their own carts, Beth said softly to Daniel, “Should I be yelling at you instead of thanking you?”

“I think we’ll both have a better idea of that after dinner tonight. Oh, and do me a favor and mark the garbage bags from here with these.” He handed her a sheet of stickers with smiley faces on them, winked at her beneath his black-rimmed glasses, and then he was gone.

* * *

Damn, Daniel thought as he headed for the lab where he was currently assigned—on the third floor, not the second. He wanted to stay there with Beth. Not just to help her, although the thought had crossed his mind despite having recruited those other cleaning-staff members. But now he wouldn’t be able to collect whatever had been in those destroyed vials.

They might have been exactly what he was seeking: potential evidence proving that Corcoris was cutting corners and endangering those who took their pharmaceutical products by using inferior-quality ingredients. It was unlikely, though, that those vials’ contents would have been useful. The damaged stuff had been in a lab in this building, where the quality-control tests provided to the FDA were conducted, so the materials here were undoubtedly first-rate. Right?

That seemed to be what he was learning by rumor, at least, since his arrival here, but so far he hadn’t discovered any proof.

Just in case, he would ask Beth later where any garbage bags the cleaners filled were discarded, including the ones he had asked her to mark, but he was fairly sure they’d go in the Dumpsters with all the other nonhazardous detritus from this business, as designated. Would it be worth having them picked up and sorted through by someone hired by the CIU?

Unfortunately, the answer was most likely no.

* * *

Finally back in her small apartment for the evening, Beth felt exhausted. Under other circumstances, she would have called whoever she’d invited over for dinner that night and offered a rain check.

Not Daniel, though. They needed to talk. And the number of topics to discuss had been raised a notch or two that afternoon.

Besides, around here—now—she wouldn’t be inviting anyone home for dinner or anything else unless there was a really good reason. As there was with Daniel.

She had stopped at a nearby supermarket on her way and picked up the fixings for a nice but not ostentatious chicken dinner.

It had been a while since she had done any serious cooking. Not when she was feeding only herself. And she still wasn’t ready to assume her outgoing Andrea persona in front of Daniel.

Neither did she have to be all shy and quiet, as Beth had been taught, rightfully so, by Judge Treena and her crew.

Judge Treena. Beth had quizzed her for a while to make sure that the man she had met was the same one Her Honor had mentioned, and the judge had mentioned that the undercover guy she’d sent there would be carrying his badge.

Even so, was it foolish anyway to invite him here? Maybe—but she would remain on guard.

Now, in her tiny but functional kitchen, Beth wished she had an apron. She always used to keep fashionable ones around, a different design for every kind of meal. Not any longer.

But then again, keeping her bland yellow T-shirt and jeans clean shouldn’t be too difficult, and if she slipped and dropped something on herself, her clothing could just be tossed in the building’s downstairs pay-laundry facilities.

She finished seasoning the chicken breasts with onions and honey-mustard sauce and popped the casserole dish into the heated oven. Then it was time to start working on the rice.

A buzzer rang, indicating that someone outside the building wanted to get in. Beth’s eyes widened in momentary fear until she remembered she shouldn’t feel startled. She knew who was there.

She put down the box of rice she’d been holding and smoothed her hands over her clothes. Then laughed at herself. That gesture had been habitual but totally unnecessary. She turned and maneuvered her way out of the kitchen and toward the intercom box at the apartment’s front door.

“Who’s there?” she said.

“I think you can guess,” said a familiar male voice.

“I think you can tell me,” she countered.

“Daniel McManus.”

“Okay. Come on upstairs to apartment 2B.” Beth smiled as she pushed the button that would open the front door. She liked pushing Daniel’s buttons that way, too. But she had selected this apartment partly because of its security system, and she intended to use it.

A knock soon sounded at her door. Sure, she knew who it was, but even so, she looked through the peephole just in case. It was habit, yes. It was also self-preservation.

The person standing outside was, unsurprisingly, exactly who she’d anticipated. Even so, she took a deep breath before pulling the door open.

He smiled at her, and she felt herself smile back—an unusual reaction these days—as she saw that he carried a small bouquet of daisies, which he held out to her. He didn’t wear his geeky glasses, and there was no slouch at all to his posture. He was even taller than she recalled, and he was clad much nicer than she, in a blue-striped shirt tucked into dressy navy slacks.