For His Eyes Only (9 page)

The man gave a low laugh. “Get me Lanton.”

Jesse tensed in the few seconds of silence before the man spoke again.

“
It’s like you said.” He paused, then, “Take this number down. Seven, nine, three, six, two, two, seven.
Catatonic
, the secure code. Got it.”

Jesse committed the number to memory.

“
Okay,” the man said and clicked the phone closed. “That’s the account at the International Bank of the Caymans, a hundred thousand for your trouble.”

Jesse’s heart fell.
Cole is Lanton’s mole
. She had started to believe his story.

“
What do you want?” Cole asked.

“
Get a confession.” He paused, then added, “by any means necessary.”

The bathroom door creaked as Cole said, “Don’t call me, I’ll call you.”

Jesse choked back tears. Cole hadn’t led Lanton to her by accident. He worked for Green Leader. Had Cole truly been Green Team Leader, had he been there in Columbia, was he the sole survivor as he claimed? I didn’t matter. She whirled and sprinted to the fence. The pain of stitches ripping shot up her leg. She stubbed her toe on a rock, stumbled, but regained her balance. The fence sat six feet away. She lunged, grabbed the chain link, and vaulted over the fence. She dropped to the other side and dove into the foliage as Cole rounded the corner of the diner.

“
Jess!” he shouted.

She crouched in the bushes as he jogged toward her. Too late to run, he would see and hear her if she moved. Fool, fool, fool, she cursed herself. Lanton,
and Cole
, had played her like a fine fiddle.

Cole continued around the corner of the building and skidded to a halt near the bathroom window.

He spun in frustration, echoing her words, “Jesse, you little fool!”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Jesse shifted in the chair at a cheap Newark, New Jersey, hotel, attention on the laptop monitor sitting on the table in front of her. The progress bar that moved across the screen indicated the funds from the Indian Ocean account she’d created were being transferred into another account which would disappear once the two hundred thousand from the Cayman account Lanton setup as her blood money moved into yet a third account.

The hope that she hadn’t miscalculated came too late. If OIA traced the money to her, it wouldn’t matter that the money’s final destination was the Philips and Rothman fund, a nonprofit organization that housed autistic kids with families without the money to care for them. OIA would proclaim her guilty of selling out Green Team, and Lanton would be given carte blanche to hunt and kill her.

Her stomach did a flip. The hundred thousand Lanton paid Cole was piggy backing on the two hundred grand. Twenty-four hours from now, the money would have funneled through eleven other accounts before falling off the face of the earth to find its way into Philips and Rothman. The idea to filch his payoff was the driving force that had goaded her into snagging the two hundred grand as well. Which only proved that, despite the fact he was Lanton’s boy, just thinking about him muddied the waters—and made her want to bawl like a baby.

She rubbed her sore eyes. She wasn’t thinking clearly. Getting from Westchester to Newark had taken her well into the afternoon. Setting up the money route had put her deep into the night. All she wanted now was a hot bath and a few hours—The Professor’s cell phone rang.

Jesse jerked her attention onto the phone sitting on the table beside the computer. The display read Cole Smith. Her pulse skipped a beat.
Smith?
His name was Smith? Jesse wanted to laugh. Hell. Mr. Smith had traced the bank transaction and, instead of bursting in, guns blazing, had called first—on a phone no one but she and The Professor knew existed. What would Emma Peel do? Be civilized, of course.

Jesse picked up the phone. “Hello, Cole.”

“
Hi, Jess.”

She closed the laptop display as the hotel room door opened and Cole filled the doorway. He met her gaze, cell phone to his ear, then lowered the phone and closed it with a click. His other hand gripped a plastic drugstore bag.

“
Like a bad penny,” she commented. Though she could deal with a little bad luck when it arrived in tight jeans and a midnight blue, long sleeve, button down shirt.

He offered a lopsided grin that sent a flutter skittering across the inside of her stomach. He stepped into the room and she flicked a glance past him at the empty parking lot before he closed the door.

“
We need to talk,” he said.

“
I’m too tired to kick your ass,” Jesse said, and meant it. “How did you get my cell number?”

“
I called Tom.”

“
Tom?” she blurted.

Cole cut her off. “You weren’t compromised. He set up a blind relay to forward my call to your phone.”

Jesse’s mind raced. Why had Tom admitted to being in contact with her? Maybe he hadn’t. Lanton would love for her to believe she couldn't trust The Professor.

Jesse closed the phone and set it on the table. “Come on in," she said, "join the party.”

Cole ran his gaze down her body. She felt a stab of disappointment when he said, “You need to change the dressing.”

She sighed and glanced at her pant leg. Blood had seeped through her chinos in spots resembling splashed coffee stains. She had dressed the wound once in the ladies restroom at Penn Station, but it still ached. Cole was right, it needed attention, but she said, “It’s nothing.”

“
Take off your pants and get on the bed.”

Jesse blinked, then laughed—hard.

Cole looked hurt. “You need the bandage changed.”

She hiccupped, tried to get out a word, but battled another fit of laughter before she managed, “This is too good.”

“
I’m serious,” he said.

“
I know.” She snorted a laugh. “That’s what makes it so funny.” Jesse motioned to the bag he carried, and said, “Even brought your own supplies, I see,” before howling again with laughter.

Cole crossed his arms over his chest and the bag bounced off his waist. He gave her a stern look, and Jesse made a valiant effort to push back her amusement. She felt her lip twitch, and he lifted both brows.

“
Come on,” she said. “You have to admit you have nerve coming here like Mother Teresa.”

“
No more nerve than you do, stealing money that isn’t yours.”

All amusement vanished. “Don’t like having your hard earned blood money stolen?”

Cole strode to the bed and sat on the edge nearest her. He dumped the contents of the bag onto the bedspread, then leveled his gaze on her. “You want to hear why I let you take the hundred thousand?”

Jesse blinked, then laughed again.

She quit laughing when Cole slid from the bed onto his knees and reached for the buttons on her Chinos.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Jesse remained motionless as Cole carefully undid the hook on her pants, then the button and the zipper. He drew back the waistband until the top of her powder blue boy-short panties were visible. Her body tightened at the prospect of inspecting the rest of those cigarette burns he’d mentioned.
The girl always falls for the bad guy
, that’s how she justified it when she found herself remembering the broad shoulders and lean forearm he’d revealed when he’d shown her the burns. He started to slide the pants from her hips.

She didn’t move, and he looked up at her. “Lift your hips so I can get the pants off.”

Jesse still didn’t move. Cole glanced at the bloodstains. His brow furrowed. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he actually cared.

He pinned her with a hard stare. “You haven’t taken proper care of this.”

“
I—”

“
I’m not stupid, Jess. It wouldn’t bleed like this if tended properly.”

She sighed, and lifted her hips. Cole tugged the pants over her hips, taking care, she noticed, not to drag her panties down. That’s what she got for not wearing a thong. The boy shorts were little less than short shorts. Emma Peel would have planned better. So would she, next time.

“
I checked into the Cayman account,” Cole said as he peeled the bloody pant leg from her leg, then tugged the garment free of her stocking feet. “It walks and talks like a payoff.”

Cole dropped the pants on the floor beside the chair. He gripped her ankle and began unwrapping the bloody gauze from her calf. The bandage snagged on clotted blood and yanked at the wound. Jesse winced.

Cole looked up at her. “You okay?”

Jesse grimaced. “That hurts more than when he cut me.” A little melodramatic, she realized, but the situation seemed to call for it.

Cole gave a serious nod, then went back to unwrapping the bandage. The bandage pulled free and he discarded it beside the pants. He shook his head as he caressed her knee around the wound.

“
You’ve ripped out more stitches, and I can’t take you back to Rayburn. You shouldn’t have run.”

His mouth thinned and she wondered how much more disapproving the look would get once he knew he wouldn’t get his money back, no matter how good a performance he gave. Had he arrived five minutes earlier, he could have stopped the transfer. Now, he needed her in order to get his money back. Amazing how five minutes made them new best friends. Cole grabbed a bottle of peroxide and box of gauze from the bed, tore open the box, and pulled out a sterile square. He opened the peroxide and saturated the gauze.

“
This’ll sting,” he said, and began cleaning blood from her skin in wide swaths, like a professional.

He was right. The cut stung bone deep as it foamed white in the wound.

“
Someone went to a lot of trouble to frame you,” he said.

Someone?
She was betting Cole would tell her Lanton was Superman in disguise and had accomplished the feat all on his own, the same way Cole had found her. The muscles in Cole’s shoulders flexed beneath the fabric of his shirt. Hello Superman—and hello to Superwoman’s kryptonite.

“
I’ll take it from here,” she said, and pulled her leg free of his grip.

Cole cupped her heel and straightened her leg. “Don’t get feisty. Someone has to clean the wound, tape the skin back together—straight and tight—then wrap it.” He released her leg, ripped open another sterile gauze, soaked it in peroxide, and began the final cleanup.

Jesse decided the cool evaporation of peroxide and the warmth of Cole’s hand were a fair trade for the frustrated desire to beat him senseless. She relaxed and studied his face as he ripped medical tape with his teeth. He wasn’t perfectly handsome in profile. His chin jutted a bit too much and a bump on the bridge of his nose indicated it had been broken.

“
Where did you learn medicine?” she asked.

“
I started as a medic in the Army Rangers—Afghanistan, Iraq.”

“
You said you were in the Navy.”

He gave her an apologetic glance, but said nothing.

“
How did you get started in this business?”

“
I come from a long line of ex-military. It’s obligatory. ROTC, officer training, active duty. I did my duty and was recruited into Green Team by Lanton.”

Jesse studied him. What if he was he telling the truth about Columbia and simply didn’t mind taking money for bringing her in? Would it be easier to deal with wanting him if he were just a man she had failed to save and not one she should want to kill instead of make love to all night? Would he resist if she pushed him onto the carpet and straddled his hips?

“
How did you meet Lanton?" she asked.

Cole began wrapping the gauze around her leg. “He ran a covert operation to locate WMDs as the civilian intelligence officer. He made me his point man for a year. I had planned on going to veterinary school after the Army. When Lanton pulled me from the field and offered me training, more education, and an opportunity to make a difference defending the U.S., I said yes.”

Jesse flexed her leg to test the bandage. Like he said, good and tight. He would have made a good veterinarian. She remembered Lancelot, and blurted, “How did Rayburn take Lancelot’s death?”

A muscle pulsed in Cole’s jaw and her heart constricted.

“
Pretty hard. Lance was only seven. I told Charlie he died a true hero.”

Jesse nodded and started to say the dog’s death wasn’t his fault, then stopped. Cole might be who he claimed to be. He could be an agent Lanton brought in who had nothing to do with Columbia, yet believed it was his duty to bring in a traitor. But the hundred thousand dollars he accepted from Lanton said he might have helped send Green Team to their deaths. So why did every square inch of her body scream to be touched by a man who might be a killer?

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

A tingle raced up Jesse’s thigh when Cole’s fingers flexed against her skin. He shifted her leg. She tensed, uncomfortably aware of the warm hands and gentle pressure against her skin.