Dangerous to Know (37 page)

“Never mind, I'll talk to you about it later. Right now I have to change back into me. I want to be wearing my own skin when I claim my forever.”

A smile feathered Taylor's lips. “Your forever? That's nice.”

“It's from your ring.”

At her blank look, Maggie held up her hand. “The inscription in your wedding ring.
Now, and forever.
”

“What are you talking about? There's no inscription in my ring.”

O
n the outside, the elegant Federal-style town house on a quiet side street just off Massachusetts Avenue appeared no different than its neighbors. Neatly banked snow edged the brick steps leading to its black-painted door. A brass knocker in the shape of an eagle gleamed in the cold afternoon sunlight. The bronze plaque that identified the structure as home to the offices of the president's special envoy was small and discreet, drawing the attention of few passersby.

Inside, however, the town house hummed with an activity level that would have astounded even the most jaded observer of the Washington political scene.

Raking fingers through hair newly restored to its original glossy chestnut color, Maggie stepped out of the third-floor crew room into a control center crackling with noise. Joe Samuels's banks of electronic boxes buzzed and beeped and blipped continually as the harried senior communications technician fielded a steady stream of transmissions from all corners of the globe. Word of the president's startling announcement had been
beamed to OMEGA agents in the field, and they wanted to know the details. All the details.

“Roger, Cyrene,” Joe said into the transmitter. “It's true. The confirmation hearings are scheduled for next week. There are going to be some changes around here.”

His dark eyes caught Maggie's. “A lot of changes,” he added, grinning.

Maggie shook her head at his knowing grin. She'd only been back from the White House a little over two hours. Most of that time had been spent with Jaguar in a closed-door mission debrief, the rest in a fever of anticipation in the crew room, working frantically to restore herself to her natural state.

She hadn't had time to discuss with anyone, let alone the still-absent Adam, any of the several urgent items on her list. Yet OMEGA's global network had already spread the word. There were going to be some changes around here. A lot of them.

Joe answered another beep, then nodded to Maggie over his bank of equipment. “Chief's on the way back from the White House, Chameleon. Be here in fifteen minutes. Think he'll have any news for us?”

Maggie sidestepped Joe's less-than-subtle probe to discover what she knew, if anything, about Adam's replacement. The idea that she might actually be named to head OMEGA was too fantastic to consider. Besides, she had more important matters to take care of right now.

“I don't know,” she replied, heading for the elevator. “I'll let you know as soon as I hear anything for sure.”

She took the specially shielded high-speed elevator to the underground lab and bearded the chief of Special Devices in his den.

“I need that special lubricant, Harry. Right away.”

The scientist pushed his glasses to the top of his shining bald forehead. “Lubricant?”

She waggled her left hand in front of his face. “The one you developed so I can slide off this ring. I want to look at the inscription one more time before you guys remove the device soldered inside.”

Maggie had no intention of surrendering the wide gold band permanently. In fact, she planned to put the ring to good use in the immediate future. But she wanted to see with her own eyes the words inscribed inside. Even with the pounds she'd shed, however, the band wouldn't fit over her knuckle.

“We didn't develop the lubricant.”

“What? Why not?”

Blinking at her startled surprise, the senior technician hunched his shoulders and slid his hands into the pockets of his white coat. “The chief sent word through Jaguar that it wasn't necessary.”

Maggie rocked back on her heels. “He did?”

“Didn't you know?”

She could only shake her head.

“The word came down the same day you left. No, the next morning. Jaguar said something about a bus backfiring and the chief swearing he wasn't going to ever let you out of range again.”

“Well, well, well…” she said softly, twisting the ring around and around on her finger. “To think all that was going on behind his oh-so-cool, Mr. In Control exterior.”

Maggie's mouth curved in a private smile as she recalled a few other revelations Adam had made during those hours in the snow cave about what went on in his mind. One of which, if she remembered correctly, had to do with locking his office door and throwing her down on the mahogany conference table she always perched on.

It was time to do a little perching.

“Gotta go,” she told the still-confused lab chief as she whirled and raced for the elevator.

Her heart was thumping wildly when she stepped out onto the second-floor landing. A quick scan of the video monitors showed no one in the special envoy's reception area except the gray-haired Elizabeth Wells. Slapping her palm against the hidden sensors, Maggie shivered in impatience while she waited for the computers to verify her print.

The moment the titanium-shielded door hummed open, she dashed through the reception room.

“Is the chief back yet?” she flung at Elizabeth.

“No, but—Chameleon, wait!”

Maggie didn't have time for questions or explanations about all the changes coming down at OMEGA. Not now. Not with anticipation thrumming through her veins like heated wine. Not with a long list of urgent items to “discuss” with Adam.

“I'll catch you later, Elizabeth,” she called over her shoulder. “I want to wait for the boss in his office.”

Actually, she wanted to wait on a certain conference table, but she didn't think the matronly Elizabeth Wells would appreciate that bit of information.

“Wait, Chameleon, there are people in—”

Maggie stumbled to an abrupt halt on the threshold to Adam's office. Jaw sagging, she surveyed what looked like half the population of the nation's capital.

Apparently every OMEGA agent who wasn't in the field had gathered to hear firsthand the amazing news. With their wives. And children. And fathers-in-law.

Helplessly, Maggie looked from the dark-haired, steel-eyed Jaguar to a grinning Cowboy to the conservative, square-jawed Doc…who sported, she saw in stunned amazement, a mane of moussed hair that only Stoney Armstrong's Hollywood stylist could have sculpted.

Before any of them could comment, however, Senator Orwin Chandler strode forward, his unlit cigar clamped firmly in his mouth. “Is Ridgeway with you?” he boomed. “We have to start plotting our strategy for working his nomination through committee.”

“Never mind that now, Dad.”

Silvery-blond Sarah Chandler MacKenzie pushed through the crowd. Her aquamarine eyes alight, she took Maggie's hands in both of hers. “I can't believe Jake kept you in debrief for so long. We've all been waiting to hear about Adam's nomination. And when you two are going to announce your plans.”

“Our plans?”

With a pang, Maggie realized she'd have to drastically revise her immediate plans. She cast a regretful glance at the huge mahogany conference table.

Three scrubbed, bright-eyed faces beamed back at her. Jaguar's adopted children were seated in the plush chairs pulled up to the table, being served a banquet of ice cream by a wiry preteen with a precocious air.

“We wish to know about your plans to wed, mademoiselle,” the boy elaborated with Gallic savoir faire. “Did I not tell you when you lie so sick and green faced in Cannes that this Thunder, he has the eye for you?”

“Henri!”

Soft-spoken Paige Jensen admonished the pickpocket who had attached himself to her during her unexpected stint as a high-priced call girl.

“But it is true, Madame Paige! You said to Doc when we fly to this so-cold city last night that these two, they are made for each other.”

“So I did, Henri.” With a smile, Paige turned to Maggie. “Well?”

“We, uh, haven't quite finalized our plans yet. I was hoping to…discuss a few matters with Thunder when he got back.”

The Russian-born, exotically beautiful Alexandra Danilova Sloan gave a low laugh. “Ah, Maggie. The women of my tribe have a saying about allowing men a say in such important matters.”

“I'm not sure I want to hear this,” Cowboy groaned.

Ignoring her husband, Alex smiled serenely. “At least once each year, it is wise to ask your man's advice about what should be done, but taking such advice is another kettle of potato soup entirely.”

Maggie twisted the heavy gold ring with her thumb. “Well,” she admitted with a grin, “I've already decided on one or two of the more important— Ack!”

She jumped straight into the air as a yard-long tongue shot out from under Adam's desk and planted a wet kiss on the back of her calf. Spinning around, Maggie saw a blue-and-orange-
striped tail whip back and forth in lazy satisfaction. The rest of her pet iguana was firmly ensconced in the foot well of Adam's desk.

“Terence! What in the world are you doing here?”

“I brought him,” Elizabeth said from the doorway. “The fool thing was pining away for you. It wouldn't even drink the Coors your father offered him last night before we went to dinner.”

Maggie's brows soared. “You and Red went to dinner last night?”

The older woman patted her gray hair with a graceful, feminine gesture. “Actually, dear, we've had dinner together every night since you left. You suggested I call him, remember?”

“I…I think so.”

The idea of crusty Red Sinclair connecting with this gracious, well-groomed woman who qualified every year at the expert level on a variety of lethal weapons both surprised and delighted Maggie. She started to tell her so, but just then a thunderous boom emanated from the outer office.

Half the people in the room reached for their weapons. The other half froze.

Maggie groaned. “Oh, no!”

A moment later, a shaggy white shape came bounding into the office. When he saw the assembled crowd, Radizwell dropped to his haunches and planted his front paws in an effort to skid to a halt, but his momentum carried him forward. Like a runaway bale of cotton, the sheepdog careened into Senator Chandler.

Arms windmilling, the dignified, silver-maned senator stumbled backward and landed on his duff. He glared at the unrepentant animal and clamped his jaw so tight the end of his unlit cigar broke off.

“Someone grab him before he decides to mark his territory,” Maggie pleaded before she turned to face the man who stood in the doorway, surveying the scene with a look of unholy amusement on his face.

“Adam! What's that…that Hungarian doing here?”

With a nod to the various occupants of the room, the secretary
of the treasury-designate strolled over to Maggie. When she saw the look in his eyes, dread washed through her in waves.

He confirmed her worst fears. “The vice president gave him to us as a wedding present.”

“Oh, nooooo!”

Laughing, Adam gathered her into his arms. “Oh, yes, my darling.”

“But—”

At that precise moment, Terence and Radizwell discovered each other. Total, uncontrolled pandemonium broke out.

Letting loose with a series of barks that had the resonance and earsplitting volume of an artillery barrage, the komondor danced around Adam's desk. Every time he got within striking distance of the foot well, a long pink tongue shot out and landed a stinging kiss on his face.

At least Maggie thought it was his face. With Radizwell, she was never quite sure.

Squealing with delight, the children jumped out of their chairs to join in the fun. Childish shrieks, adult laughter, and Senator Chandler's blustery admonitions to get that damned hound under control joined Radizwell's booming woofs.

In the midst of it all, Maggie stood cradled in Adam's arms. “What are my chances of convincing Taylor to take him back?” she shouted.

“About the same as convincing me to ever let you go.”

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she grinned up at him. “In that case, I guess he's ours. Now, and forever.”