Express Male (4 page)

“That way,” her captor said, tilting his head toward a doorway that led to a darkened room.

She swallowed with some difficulty, but walked carefully in that direction. Her captor, naturally, followed close behind.

“There’s a light switch on the wall to your left,” he told her. “Turn it on.”

Again, she did as she was instructed, her heart sinking when she saw the room was, as she had feared, a bedroom. Again, the decor was cozy and warm, the pine walls and floor continuing into this room from the other, the pencil sketches replaced by watercolor renditions of lake and sky. She felt his hand on her back, his fingers splaying wide between her shoulder blades and she instinctively jerked away. But he caught her easily, circling her upper arm with strong fingers. He tugged her back toward himself and propelled both their bodies forward, kicking the bedroom door closed behind them. He pushed her again, toward the bed, and nausea rolled into her belly.

Her mind raced to recall every self-defense trick she’d ever read in
Glamour
magazine and could only remember two: Jab him in the eyes with your keys or stomp on his instep with your spike heel. But he’d taken her keys from her and she wasn’t going to do much damage with a pair of knockoff Birkenstocks. Even scratching him would be impossible. She had been a nail-biter since childhood.

When he was undressing, she told herself, that was when she’d make her move. When his pants were down around his ankles, she’d run. Or she’d grab Mr. Happy and make him very unhappy indeed. Something. Anything. The moment his guard was down, she would figure out how best to hurt him. And then she would run like hell.

Little by little, they drew nearer the bed, with him behind her, slowly urging her forward. Closer now…closer…three more steps…two…almost there…one more step…

He walked right past the bed, heading toward another room off the bedroom.

Oh. Well that kind of threw off her plan of attack. Now what?

He instructed her to flip on that light, too, and when she did, Marnie saw a bathroom like any other, except that there was more pine instead of tile, and no bathtub. In place of one was an incongruously modern-looking shower stall in the corner, covered on two sides with frosted glass.

“Get in the shower,” he told her.

Oooh.
He was one of those weirdos who had an obsession with cleanliness. That could work for her, she thought. It could. If she could just…If she could just…Well. If she could just get her brain to stop jumping around long enough for her to make sense of it.

“I really don’t think I need a shower right now,” she said. “I took one this morning, and honestly, if I could just wash my face, that would really be all I—”

He interrupted her by uttering a long, exasperated sound. He followed it with a very perturbed, “Just get in the damned shower, Lila.”

She narrowed her eyes at him as understanding began to dawn. Like a good, solid blow to the back of the head. “You mean, get in it with my clothes
on?
”

He actually had the nerve to roll his eyes and look at her as if she were an idiot. “Get. In. The. Shower. Now.”

She made a face at him. “Oh. Kay.” Just for that, she
would
leave her clothes on.

A half-dozen steps brought her to the shower door, which she carefully pulled open. Inside, she saw…a shower stall. Clean. Dry. Empty. On one shelf was lined up an assortment of toiletries, no two brands the same. Someone must be a coupon shopper. Marnie knew that because she never had the same brands in her house, either. There wasn’t a shower smell to the stall, though, neither soapy nor mildewy, and she found that odd. It didn’t even smell of disinfectant, as if it had just been cleaned. It didn’t smell like anything.

She was about to turn around, to ask faux Randy what she was supposed to do next, but he was climbing into the shower stall right behind her, something that made the words get stuck in her throat. She opened her mouth to scream—well, it was as good a reaction as any—but he reached beyond her, pointing what she thought was her car-key fob at the soap holder.

Okay, now that was just plain weird.

Weirder still was the fact that one of the plastic shower walls suddenly went sliding to the left, revealing a cubby on the other side. The walls of the cubby were lined with metal, something that looked like brushed aluminum, and when she looked to the left, she saw a flight of stairs heading down. She closed her eyes for a second then opened them. Nope, it was definitely not a hallucination. Sometimes a shower stall wasn’t a shower stall. What this one was, though…

“Go on,” faux Randy said from behind her.

“Go where?” she asked.

“Down the stairs.”

She was going to jokingly ask him if that was where he kept his torture chamber, but was afraid it might not be a joke at all. He must have sensed she was about to refuse—and she was—because she felt the gun press into her back again. She sighed and stepped cautiously into the metal cubby and looked down the stairs. There were about fifty or sixty of them, emptying into a well-lit hallway below. Whatever was down there, faux Randy hadn’t built it by himself. It was too perfect a construction for it to have been completed without some kind of sophisticated technology.

“What’s down there?” Marnie asked, really, really hoping he didn’t reply,
My torture chamber.

“Lots of people who have been looking for you,” he said.

“Lots of people?” she echoed, puzzled. That actually might be good. Unless they were all like faux Randy.

He nodded. “Lots of people. And lucky you, Lila. One or two of them
might
even be happy to see you.”

N
OAH
T
ENNANT TUCKED
Philosopher’s manuscript under one arm and pressed the gun more insistently into Lila’s back. He honestly wasn’t sure which of the two was the bigger prize. Hell, he’d been
that
close to collaring Sorcerer tonight, too, and had only let the other man escape after making the split-second decision that Lila was worth more. Had Noah run after Sorcerer, she would have disappeared back into the netherworld where she’d been living undetected for the past five months. And they couldn’t have that.

Sorcerer had a habit of popping up again from time to time. Not so Lila. When she dug in, she stayed there. Noah had decided to seize the moment and grab her now, because he might not have another chance. Frankly, he was surprised she hadn’t used that split second to make her own escape. Or, even more characteristic of her, clean his clock and
then
make her escape. Lila Moreau could do a lot of damage in a split second. Nobody knew that better than Noah.

Still, had he succeeded in bringing in her, the manuscript
and
Sorcerer, he would have been promoted to the position of All Powerful Emperor of Everything Without Exception So There. And that would have looked great on a résumé.

“I’m not Lila,” Lila said. Again. “There’s been some terrible mixup somewhere. My name is Marnie. Marnie Lundy.” She’d said that several times tonight, too. Though how she could honestly think Noah would ever believe
that
was beyond him.

“Walk,
Lila,
” he said emphatically, “and keep your hands where I can see them.”

He jabbed the gun into her waist again to urge her down the stairs, not hard enough to hurt her, but hard enough to let her know he was willing to pull the trigger if she tried anything stupid. And he was, dammit. She’d pissed him off plenty in the past, but never like this. What the hell kind of game was she playing? She knew better than to try and pass herself off as someone else to anyone in OPUS, especially Noah. Hell, OPUS had created her. And Noah had been her senior agent at one point. He’d been more than that for one night, but that was something he did his best not to think about these days. Bad enough it had happened in the first place.

When he’d received the intel last night that she was in the middle of Lauderdale’s department store hanging up underwear, Noah’s first impulse had been to send every agent they had to bring her in right then. He couldn’t imagine what could possibly be going on at that store to have attracted her attention enough to not just bring her out of hiding, but put herself on display. Then he’d reminded himself that Lila was efficient and expeditious when carrying out an assignment—whether it was one OPUS gave her or not—and he made himself wait. And watch. Now that Philosopher had passed her the manuscript, it all made sense. But having Sorcerer, a rogue agent they’d been hunting for years, show up within moments of the transfer…

Well. Suffice it to say it looked like all the rumors about Lila going rogue, too, were true. But Noah was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. For now. There weren’t many in the Office for Political Unity and Security who were willing to do that.

With a heavy sigh that could have meant anything, she lowered one foot cautiously to the first stair. Step by step, she descended with her arms kept at shoulder height, Noah never allowing more than an inch of space to separate her and his gun. At the bottom, she hesitated, even though there was only one direction into which they might travel—forward. Before them was a long hallway dotted on both sides by metal doors all the way down. The two of them appeared to be alone, but dozens of people worked in the facility around the clock. Just because the day came to an end didn’t mean an OPUS workday ended. The Office for Political Unity and Security never slept.

“Walk,” Noah said again.

She moved forward slowly, her arms still held out by her head. It was good that she was being so cooperative, but he had no idea why she was being so cooperative. He’d seen Lila take out ten men twice her size in one evening. That she had accompanied him here without a fight was nothing short of astonishing.

As they made their way down the hall, the only discernible sounds were the soft hum of the air conditioner and Lila’s shallow, uneven breathing. Her hands were trembling, and she stumbled more than once as they walked. If he didn’t know better, Noah would have thought she was genuinely terrified. Which was laughable, because Lila Moreau wasn’t afraid of anything. Least of all OPUS.

“Stop here,” he said when they arrived at the door he wanted. She did so without hesitation. Without a fight. Without so much as a curse. “Turn the knob and go inside,” he told her.

Again, she followed his instructions, leading them into an empty interrogation room. Still training his gun on her, Noah closed the door and thumbed a green button on the wall, to announce their arrival. Within seconds, the door opened again and another agent entered the room.

Noah nodded once at the man in acknowledgment, who nodded silently back in reply. His dark eyes widened, and his shaggy black eyebrows shot high when he noted the extent of Noah’s injuries, until he obviously remembered it was Lila Noah had just brought in. Noah didn’t bother to tell the man it was Sorcerer, not she, who’d inflicted the damage. No reason for the other man to let down his guard.

By now she had retreated to the opposite corner of the room. She stood with her back pressed against the place where the two walls met, hugging herself tight, as if she were trying to hold herself together. Her eyes, an incredible aquamarine that Noah had never seen on any human being but her, were wide with what looked like fear—yeah, right—and her entire body seemed to be shaking now.

For the first time, he noted her attire; the slim gray skirt, the pale blue top and sweater. Her hair, darker blond than it had been the last time he saw her, was wound atop her head in a loose bun, except for a few stray pieces that had fallen free, probably during her scuffle with Sorcerer. She wore no makeup, and her legs were bare, her feet encased in chunky, ugly shoes. It was a remarkably bland getup, worn obviously because she didn’t want to attract attention. Noah had seen her outfitted in everything from black camouflage to designer evening gowns to perform her job. But never had he seen her try to carry off a persona like this. Mild. Unobtrusive. Compliant. It didn’t suit her at all.

“Good to have you back, She-Wolf,” said the second man, an agent whose code name was Zorba, thanks to his Mediterranean heritage. “Though it would have been better if you’d come in on your own, instead of having to be dragged back.”

Lila’s expression changed at the man’s use of her code name, a slip Noah noticed with some satisfaction. Maybe she was finally going to give up the lame pretense, and then they could start talking in earnest about why she’d taken off, where she’d been and what the hell she’d been doing while she was gone and prior to her disappearance.

“She-Wolf?” she echoed, her voice edged with irritation.

“I thought you people were convinced I was this Lila person. What’s with the She-Wolf? What kind of name is that?”

Noah almost smiled. Oh, yeah. Lila was about to reveal herself. Even backed against the wall—literally—she could still snarl.

Zorba looked at Noah. “Gonna be a long night, I see.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Zorba,” Noah said, not taking his eyes off Lila. “If anyone can make her crack, you can.”

Her eyes went wide at that, and he smiled with satisfaction. She’d been out of the game too long if she was revealing herself that easily. Then again, this was probably all part of
her
game. Since she kept insisting she was someone else, she had to pretend to be scared of what was happening to her. Smart agent. Excellent actress.

“Go ahead and get started without me,” he told Zorba.

“I need to get cleaned up and find something to eat. I’m starving. You hungry?” he asked Lila.

She didn’t seem to know what to make of the offer. After a small hesitation, she said softly, “A little.”

“Too bad,” he told her. “You’ll get nothing until you tell us what we want to hear.”

And without awaiting a reply—or a dagger in his back, which was the most likely response from Lila Moreau—he left the room.

“N
OW, LET’S TRY
this again, Lila, starting five months ago. We know you went to the Nesbitt estate to make contact with your partner after knocking Romeo unconscious and taking his clothes. But that was the last time anyone saw you. Where did you go after that?”

Noah bit back a growl at hearing Zorba ask the question
again.
Four hours after bringing Lila to the OPUS interrogation facility, she was still insisting she was someone named Marnie Lundy who’d grown up in Cleveland and held down two jobs, one for the department store where he’d picked her up tonight and one teaching piano to schoolchildren.

He’d actually laughed out loud at that. The only reason Lila would get near a kid would be to have it for breakfast. And the only way she’d get near a piano would be to cut the wire for garroting someone later. Not that OPUS had ever called on her to be an assassin. But she sure as hell had all the right moves and qualities to make a good one.

During a break in the interrogation, when Noah and Zorba had stepped out of the room, the other man had suggested they bring in an OPUS shrink, on the outside chance—the
way
outside chance—that Lila really had gone off the deep end this time. She’d been out in the cold for five months, all alone, without any of her usual tools or contacts to help her. She’d lost her mother just prior to her disappearance, and although Noah knew there was no love lost between the two women, the death of a parent could still have a powerful impact on a person. Lila’s past was troubled—to put it mildly—her background unstable—ditto. Throw all of that into a pot and it made for a toxic stew that might undo anyone. Even Lila Moreau.

Reluctantly, Noah had called in not just a shrink, but also his superior officer from OPUS headquarters in Washington, D.C. Although Noah headed up the Ohio unit, there were interstate implications with this, and he felt obligated to alert the big guns to what was going on. Especially the biggest gun of all, He Whose Name Nobody Dared Say—mostly because nobody knew what it was. After all, he was the one Lila had reportedly tried to kill.

Now, both No-Name and the shrink had arrived and been briefed on what was going on. The psychiatrist, a middle-aged woman with salt-and-pepper hair cropped short, code name Gestalt, had joined Noah and Zorba in the interrogation room, and He Whose Name Nobody Dared Say was watching from another room on the closed-circuit TV.

“My name isn’t Lila,” Lila said wearily for what felt like the hundredth time.

She was sitting with her arms crossed on the table, her forehead resting on the top one. She was clearly exhausted, and they’d allowed her no food or drink, nor breaks of any kind, since her arrival. Anyone else would have rolled over by now. But not Lila.

“My name is Marnie Lundy,” she said again. “I live at 207 Mockingbird Lane in Cleveland, Ohio. I was born and raised in Cleveland. I’m thirty-three years old. I graduated from Moore High School in 1991, and from Ohio State University with a B.A. in music in 1995. I earned my master’s in music from OSU in 1996. My work record has been varied and eclectic since then, but I now work at Lauderdale’s Department Store, and I teach piano to kids after school and on weekends.” She lifted her head and met each of her inquisitors’ gazes in turn. “I don’t know who you people are or why you’re keeping me here. But I swear, if it’s at all within my power to do so, once this is over, I will hunt down every one of you like dogs and call you Rover.”

Well, at least she’d been honest about her age, Noah thought. And maybe the part about hunting them all down like dogs. Except that she’d do a lot more than call them names once she found them.

“Perhaps you should let me ask a few questions.” The comment came from Gestalt. “I’d like to speak to Ms. Lundy alone for a bit.”

Noah was about to decline, but one look from the psychiatrist stopped him. Fine. If she wanted to call Lila Ms. Lundy, hell, who was Noah to stop her? It wasn’t like he and Zorba had had any luck all night. And they could watch from the closed-circuit TV, too.

“All right,” he said. “Zorba and I will go for coffee. And I think they put out some doughnuts, too,” he added, looking at Lila. “Anybody else want anything? Except you, I mean?”

If looks could kill, Noah would have been atomic fallout about then.

“We’ll be fine,” Gestalt told him. “Ms. Lundy…Marnie,” she said, softening her voice, “and I will have a nice little chat, I hope.”

Whatever, Noah thought.

He and Zorba left the room, locking the door behind them, just in case Lila decided to ditch the compliant, complacent role and return to her old badass self. Then they strode to the next room to join their boss. Also present was Noah’s secretary, Ellie Chandler, a slim brunette on the tall side wearing a dark suit similar to the ones the men favored. Only instead of a necktie, she’d closed the collar with an understated bit of jewelry.

Normally, Noah wouldn’t include his secretary in something like this. But Ellie was ninety percent finished with the instruction and training required to become an agent, and he did his best to include her in things that might be helpful to her education. He was confident she would be an excellent agent. He was, after all, the one who had recommended her to the program.