Heat Seeker (21 page)

“I didn’t see a rule book with the job,” she murmured. “I’m well aware of all your reputations. I’ll make certain the best man gets the job.” She’d already made her choice as far as she was concerned. Warbucks was wasting his time with this little game.

“We were assured of impartiality,” he stated, a glimmer of anger showing in his eyes.

“And I’m being very impartial,” she promised. “If you don’t like how I do things, then perhaps you should take it up with your potential client. I only make the suggestion, I’m sure he’ll make the final choice.”

Personally she would have preferred to have been asked to take the position, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. The
past year had been spent trying to convince Warbucks that she wanted her chance to get back at the government that had betrayed her. He was giving her the chance. Now, she had to play the hand she was dealt until the time came to cash in on her own vengeance.

Ralph’s thin lips nearly disappeared into his face as he pressed them together in irritation. “I’ll be certain to do that,” he informed her coldly. “Until then, Ms. Serborne, I’d watch my back if I were you. You could acquire several very dangerous enemies with this job.”

He walked away from her, leaving her in the middle of the dance floor as though he had cast her aside. Bailey let a rueful smile tip her lips at the curious glances from the other dancers.

“Were you deserted, darling?” John’s arm wrapped around her as he pulled her against the strength and heat of his body once again. “For shame. Some men just have no manners.”

Delight spread through her body at the feel of herself against him. She hadn’t realized just how good his body felt against her own. Even clothed in the finely cut evening suit, the hard muscle hidden from view, she could sense the strength and the heat of him.

“I considered it a favor,” she laughed lightly as he led her from the dance floor.

“I’m certain you did,” John agreed. “But while you were away, I received a very interesting message.”

He slipped the paper into her hand. Turning against his body to use it as a shield, she opened the folded note and read it quickly.

Ms. Serborne’s choice is noted.
Not that it had been approved, simply that it had been noted.

Refolding it, she tucked it into her purse, noting the narrowing of his gaze as she did so.

“Well, it seems we are indeed being watched,” she murmured.

“Did you doubt it?” he asked her.

“I never doubt it, I simply hoped to figure out who it was
rather quickly,” she sighed, though she knew she should have known better.

“Several other brokers are here as well as Stanford,” he noted. “Abbas and his former mistress are here.”

Former mistress, her ass. She knew exactly who Catalina Lamont truly was. The same redhead posing as John’s handler. A few cosmetic alterations to her face, a lighter rinse on her hair, and perhaps some padding at her breasts, but it was definitely the woman she had met as “Tehya” the morning before.

Catalina Lamont had been caught in the explosion with the real Jerric Abbas. They had literally died in each other’s arms. After the explosion, and the revelation that they had survived, the two had very publicly, and vocally, broken off the affair. They were now rumored to be mere business associates, nothing more.

It seemed Tehya was playing a variety of roles and ones she appeared to be well adept at playing.

“We also have a European arms broker in the mix, Terrance Dupuis,” she pointed out. “And a Saudi sheik who often brokers deals with the various terrorist groups. A Russian mafia figure arrived in Aspen earlier today as well.” She shot him a sidelong glance. “Ivan Olav. He’s gaining a name for himself with his negotiations on stolen Russian military weapons to terrorists.”

It all came down to terrorism. The various factions and cells in an age of terror and political and religious factions vying for supremacy however they could acquire it.

“We have quite a little mix,” John murmured. “And we’re about to add to it. Greer is coming up to us.”

Bailey turned as Raymond stepped closer, his expression unreadable.

“Bailey, could I drag you away from Mr. Vincent for a bit? Mary was feeling poorly and wanted to visit with you before we leave.”

“Of course.” Bailey turned to John and saw the edge of worry in his gaze. No one would have realized it, or would have recognized it. But the familiarity to Trent slammed
inside her. The same light in his gaze, the way the shade darkened even as she watched him, the slightest tightened curve to his lips.

“I’ll be back soon,” she promised. “I saw Ian and Kira arrive earlier, perhaps you could take the opportunity to invite them to lunch tomorrow as we discussed.”

She hadn’t discussed it, but she knew Ian was part of the group that John was working with, as was Kira. It was time to draw the players together and force the answers she needed.

“Don’t be long, sweetheart.” He lowered his head, kissing her cheek gently. “You know how I worry.”

He had every right to worry, as they both knew. Turning back to Raymond, she gave him a slight smile before moving with him across the ballroom.

It wasn’t an odd request. Mary often had bouts of weakness and retired to a bedroom or sitting room where she visited with her closest friends during the parties she attended. Crowds often made her jittery anyway.

“This way.” Raymond stepped into the foyer and led the way to a short hallway that led from it. “Ford was kind enough to loan us his sitting room.”

Kind enough. “Ford” and “kind” weren’t words that she thought would be synonymous with the man. He was kind to his sister, he loved his son. His grandchildren treasured him. But he had terrorized his wife and daughter, and, she suspected, had ordered their deaths.

He was the same man who had cried at her parents’ funeral and went to their graves on the anniversary of their deaths. The man whose servants had gossiped that he’d nearly destroyed the inside of his home the day his wife and daughter had been buried.

He played a damned good game, she had to give him credit for that.

Opening the door to the sitting room, Raymond showed her inside, but no one was there. Bailey turned quickly to find Raymond closing the door before clicking the lock slowly into place.

“Where’s Mary?” She gripped her purse loosely, her finger
lying on the trigger of the weapon within the silk folds of the small bag.

“Stand down, Bailey.” He shot her a disgusted look as he moved for the bar, his stooped shoulders rigid with either tension or anger, it was never easy to tell with Raymond. “I’m not going to have you killed while your lover is waiting in the ballroom.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time you arranged it.” She didn’t move her finger, but she relaxed marginally as he fixed himself a drink.

“Whisky and Coke?” He turned back to her, his heavy brow lifting in question as he gestured to the drinks.

Bailey nodded carefully. “What’s this about, Raymond?”

He finished fixing the drinks before moving back to her. “Have a seat, my dear.” He nodded to the chairs that sat in a small grouping to the side of the bar. “We need to talk.”

“Do we now?” She took her drink and accepted the chair closest to her as she watched him curiously. “And what do we have to talk about that would require such a private setting?”

Sitting down, Raymond leaned back in his chair, sipped at his own whisky, and let a smile touch his lips. “You’re rather good,” he stated after long moments. “I have to admit, even I had my doubts that you would turn your back on your own country until you covered our tracks in Iraq as you did just before your retirement.”

“You fucked up,” she snapped. “Damn, Raymond, I never thought you would have let yourself get burned so easily.”

She hadn’t been certain he had been involved until now. All she had known was where the trail had led, and the prints that had been lifted from the secured Army barracks that had held the confiscated plutonium found in a hidden, underground vault beneath Saddam Hussein’s castle.

“Very nearly,” he agreed. “We were working within a tighter schedule than we had assumed. Unfortunately, the prize wasn’t nearly as rich as we had assumed. The plutonium was unusable, I’m afraid. Saddam, it seemed, wasn’t nearly as bright as he led some of us to assume.”

Bailey sat back in her chair, forcing herself to keep her expression enigmatic, not to give up the fact that she had never truly been certain that Raymond was involved.

“Warbucks appreciated your efforts,” he murmured, watching her, his gaze narrow, thoughtful.

“That’s always nice to know.” Leaning back herself, she watched him for long moments, seeing a side to Greer that she had only suspected existed. She had always known he was cold, hard, superior, but what he was showing now was a casual confidence, a self assurance that attested to the fact that he now had the upper hand.

“I haven’t figured out exactly what you’d hoped to gain in the past years though,” he finally sighed. “We’ve watched you, of course, especially since I took over the day-to-day operations of the ventures he partakes of. You’ve gone to great lengths to protect him. Why?”

Bailey crossed her knees, rested her elbow on them, and sipped at her whisky as she considered the question.

“Whoever he is, he’s someone I’ve grown up with.” She finally shrugged. “Father didn’t completely fail in raising me, Raymond. I understand my duties to the men who have always watched my back. I looked after Warbucks’s interests, and he kept me alive. It was a beneficial arrangement.”

Raymond’s lips quirked in amusement. “How did you know he kept you alive?

“Orion had a big mouth,” she sniffed. “He warned me several times that he was being paid not to kill me and that one day there wouldn’t be enough to walk away from the temptation.” She grinned ruefully.

“You were rather a thorn in his side,” he sighed. “We paid quite a bit of money to ensure he didn’t harm you. Perhaps you could have done us a greater favor and let him be,” he suggested.

Bailey leaned forward. “He killed my family. My cousins suffered at his hands. There was no amount of money that could have made me turn back. And evidently it wasn’t too large a price to pay or Warbucks would have made the request that I back off.”

“And would you have?” Raymond asked.

“Probably not. It would have been according to how strenuously he had asked.” She lifted her glass to her lips and took a fortifying sip as he grinned back at her in amusement.

“That’s rather what we assumed.” He finally nodded. “Your past endeavors to protect him have always surprised him. Because of this, he’s decided that perhaps you would make a worthy partner.”

A worthy partner? Oh now, this was much more than she had ever hoped.

“He’s looking for partners, is he?” Bailey let her surprise show, to do otherwise wouldn’t have been in her best interests.

“Not just any partner,” he assured her. “You have contacts, Bailey, many that I can only guess at, you’ve proven that over the years. But even more, you’re his equal in ways that no one else could hope to be or to become.”

“Is he looking for a partner or a wife?” she sniffed.

Raymond laughed, a low dark chuckle that sent a chill racing up her spine. “He’s not in the market for a wife, my dear, though you’d make an excellent one. What he is in the market for are your invaluable services in several endeavors he’d like to undertake in the future. Your help with this one in particular is greatly appreciated.”

Bailey sipped at the whisky again before setting her glass on the table. “No broker that he’s contacted is going to take
CROSSFIRE
without a meeting first,” she finally assured him. “Warbucks has so far managed to keep his identity a closely guarded secret. The days of that are at an end if he’s not extremely careful this time.”

Raymond nodded. “We’ve discussed this at length, which is one of the reasons we’ve given the choice of brokers into your safekeeping. You know the risks he’ll be facing as well as the brokers most likely to secure the job and to secure it correctly. We ask that though it seems you have chosen a worthy lover, that you give due consideration to the other parties as well.”

Bailey stared back at him, knowing how she appeared to him. Her gaze was flat and cool, assessing.

“It would have helped if I had known that I would be choosing from the parties concerned before they arrived,” she stated.

Raymond tilted his head in agreement. “But in doing so we would have lost the element of surprise as well as our own strength in assessing your true intentions.”

“In other words, you had everything in place to see if I went screaming back to the agency.” She gave a light, amused little laugh. “Tell me, Raymond, did you ever regret your choice to work with Warbucks?”

“Never.” His response was instant.

“Then I suspect, neither will I.” She lifted her glass, finished her drink, then stared back at him questioningly. “Do we have any other business to conduct?”

Raymond arched his brows, his lips tugged into a reluctant smile.

“Very well, then, we’ll discuss fees,” she suggested. “The brokers you’ve chosen all charge a fifteen percent rate of the total sale. Though I’m certain a few will go a few points lower, Vincent won’t. I wouldn’t suggest using anyone willing to take a cut on their pay at this point.”