My Spy (25 page)

And no matter what she decided, Sam would be gone in a matter of weeks.

She simply
wasn't
going to tumble into an affair. She wouldn't put her heart up for target practice a second time.

There was a tap on her door. “Buzz called,” Annie's assistant said. “So did your sister. I left a phone slip there on your desk.”

“Sorry, they're lost beneath the last batch of supplier files. Who knew that finding a source for rosemary and lavender essential oils could be so difficult?”

Her assistant frowned. “Well, you'd better call Taylor back. She sounded edgy.”

“Taylor always sounds edgy. It's that writer thing.”

“No, she was worried about you. She wanted to be sure you don't sneak out and miss your three o'clock appointment.”

“I'm not sneaking anywhere, don't worry.”

“You also had a call from a reporter for the
San Francisco Chronicle.
She wants to do a lifestyle piece on the resort. New answers to old problems, that kind of thing. She sounded smart.”

Annie shook her head. “You know the rule, Megan. No publicity. People pay to come here to get away from all that. Tell her the usual. We appreciate the interest from such a fine publication, etc., etc.”

“I think you're making a mistake.” Megan's voice grew firmer. “The right kind of publicity would be priceless, especially with this new line of body products.”

Annie considered it. “If she calls again, get her name and number and tell her we'll be in touch.”

“But—”

“Thanks, Megan. I know you'll handle it gracefully. Then why don't you break for lunch?”

No publicity was her parents' policy, and Annie meant to
maintain it. She'd launch her new spa products strictly by private mailings and word of mouth, then see what happened.

Annie rubbed her eyes. She'd hit a few more files before she took a break for lunch herself.

She was elbow deep in lavender sachets when the phone rang. With Megan at lunch, Annie took the call, muttering when it turned out to be someone trying to sell a time share in Aruba.

After pouring a fresh cup of oolong tea, she pulled out a new batch of lavender samples, some from as far away as England and France. Pricey, but quality counted. Given the competition in high-end beauty products, Annie knew her line had to be smarter, fresher, and more effective to have a chance at success.

She jumped as the phone rang again.

“No, I'm
not
interested in a time share in Aruba.”

There was a moment of silence. “Why not?” It was Buzz Kozinski.

Annie drew a slow breath. “Sorry, Buzz. Just some back and forth with a pushy salesman.”

“You want to borrow my gun for a few hours?”

Annie could almost see the grin on his calm, ruddy face. “I smell a trick question here.”

“No trick. I've had my fill of pushy phone solicitors, too. Only thing worse are their pushy lawyers.”

Annie thought of Tucker Marsh and suppressed a shudder. “No argument there. But I'll pass on the gun rental, Buzz, kind as it is. What can I do for you?”

A chair creaked. “I've been thinking about that fire alarm. Did you have the units checked out?”

“It was a short in the fuse box. One of the repairmen must have mangled the wiring.”

“No other problems?”

“Just an obnoxious lawyer and a bad-tempered whirlpool.”

“Is the lawyer a guest?”

“Afraid so.”

“Anything you need my help for?”

Annie was sorely tempted to lay out the problem for a sympathetic listener, but she resisted the urge.
The buck stops here
, her grandma had said, long before Truman hit the White House. “It's nothing, Buzz. I appreciate your support, but I'll handle it.”

“You sure? You want to make a complaint, I'll be there in ten minutes.”

“Thanks, but I was just letting off steam. It's been one of those days.” And the hangover hadn't helped.

“I know all about those days. Matter of fact, I just picked up a shoplifter over at the Stop 'n Buy. He stole some lighter fluid and set fire to the mayor's car. Claimed she was in league with the Russian mafia, and they've been abducting people and selling their organs to wealthy Arab oil sheiks.”

“Interesting theory.” Annie frowned. “The mayor's okay, I hope?”

“Just fine. Unfortunately, her black BMW is toast.”

“And I thought
my
day was bad.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Annie saw her door open. Suddenly her day got a whole lot worse. Tucker Marsh strode toward her, his eyes small and mean. “I want to talk to you.”

“I'm on the phone, but I'll—”

He crossed his arms.
“Now.”

“I believe you'll have to make an appointment, Mr. Marsh.”

“Forget an appointment.” He watched her with predatory intensity as he moved around the desk. “It was bad enough when I couldn't get a decent meal. Now I can't book a massage or get private exercise training. Everyone claims to be busy.”

Because she had warned them to provide no private services to Marsh until further notice.

Annie pushed to her feet, her heart pounding.

“I'll be with you in a second, Buzz.” She put down the phone, studying Marsh coolly. “You were told when you
registered that services would be scaled back this week. You do remember, don't you?”

“I remember every word.” Marsh leaned over the desk. “Your services are inadequate. I expect a complete refund.”

Annie had the sudden sense he had done this before. He probably considered it a pleasant game to bluster his way out of paying for his vacations.

She picked up an onyx letter opener and tapped it against her wrist, letting him wait for an answer.

“Well?” he snapped.

“Your money will not be refunded. If you choose to leave early, we will cancel the bill for any remaining days.”

“You must be nuts. I'm going take you apart in court. When I'm finished you won't be able to
pay
people to come to Summerwind.”

“Is that a threat?” Annie asked, her voice like silk.

Marsh leaned over the table and caught her arm. “What the hell do you think?”

“I think that you've had your way too often. If you pursue this course of action, I'll release the sworn complaints of women whom you have harassed and intimidated. I will add my own complaint to those.”

His fingers tightened. “Big talk. But that's all it is.”

Annie pointed up to the security camera, which was directed at her desk. “I wonder how your outburst will look on video in the courtroom.” She pushed away his hand. “I expect I'll have bruises here in the morning. Those should look interesting on film, too.”

Unnerved, Marsh glanced up at the camera. “You can't videotape without a posted notice.”

“It's right beside the outer door. I suppose you were too intent on threatening me to see it.”

He moved away, smoothing down his windbreaker, already playing to the camera. “Naturally I'm upset. I'm seriously dissatisfied
with your services. I intend to register a complaint with the state tourism board as soon as I get back.”

Annie studied him coldly. “Harassment in any form is not only unethical but illegal. I think I'll discover you have a pattern of such behavior.”

Marsh moved from foot to foot, and Annie could see his jaw twitch. “What are you suggesting?”

“That you've done this kind of thing before, Mr. Marsh.”

“That's bulls—” He glanced up at the camera. “Baloney,” he snapped. The arrogance surged back. “You should be worrying about your defense in court.”

Annie clicked her tongue. “Should I? Lawsuits are unpleasant and expensive.” Her voice fell, confiding. “I think I'll make a few calls and check out how many other times you've done this. It should look nice in my file.”

Marsh's hands opened and closed as he stared at her. “You won't find a thing.”

“Let's see.” Annie reached for the phone. “And now I'm going to finish my call.”

She was trembling when he stormed out, trembling so much that it took several seconds to hear Buzz's voice.

“Stay put. I'm coming right over. No one can talk to you that way.”

Annie sank into her chair, shaken. “I can handle this, Buzz.”

“I heard enough to know he threatened you. I can bring him in and question him. I figure I can hold him for at least a few hours.”

“He's a pro at this and I need more ammunition before I take him on. But I hope you'll be a witness, if this comes to trial.”

“You've got it.” There was a long silence. “I hear Taylor's golf cart got pretty banged up last night.”

“You heard about that?”

“People love to talk. Any particular reason Taylor's golf cart got banged up?”

“We were a little drunk.” Way more than a little, Annie thought.

“You sure you're okay?”

“Just fine. It was one of those sister things.” Make that twenty-seven years of buried sibling rivalry, Annie thought. A hangover was a small price to pay for purging years of painful misunderstanding.

“Well, if you decide to run Attila the Hun in for an afternoon behind bars, it would be my pleasure to oblige. Consider
that
a sheriff thing.” He was silent for a few moments. “Did you really get him on camera?”

Annie smiled faintly. “No. That camera hasn't worked in three months. But Marsh doesn't know that—and he never will.”

A
NNIE
HAD
JUST
GONE
BACK
TO
MAKING
FILES
OF
HERB SAMPLES
when she heard the sharp click of stiletto heels.

Today Taylor was wearing black leather pants, a leopardprint sweater, and black alligator ankle boots with four-inch heels. “Amazing. I actually found you.”

“The MTV awards are on the other side of the hall,” Annie said.

“Very funny. Let's go.”

“Look, Taylor, I'm buried here. I can't possibly—”

“
Now,
ace. Otherwise I'll call in the marines.”

Annie's eyes narrowed. “What marines?”

“The one with the cute butt. With that body, if he's not a ma rine, he's something close, so don't bother lying.”

Annie sat back with a sigh. “You're impossible.”

“Only when it's necessary.”

“I have to be back in an hour.”

“Two.”

Annie tapped two fingers on her desk. “One and a half.”

Taylor smiled. “Three. You work too damned hard.”

Annie reviewed her day. Hangover. Temporary insanity with Sam. Another confrontation with Tucker Marsh. Hardly a stellar success so far. Probably an hour break couldn't make matters any worse.

And she definitely needed to relax. If she could relax, she might be able to forget about Sam.

About his incredible body, his amazing hands.

About that skillful mouth and how it drove her crazy.

Earth to Mars!
No more thinking about the man in her casita.

She closed her files with a snap. “Let's go.”

H
E
SAT
IN
THE
DARKNESS,
CRADLING
A
COLD FOSTER
'S
,
DEAFENED by the energetic wail of a singer in a red cowboy hat with rhinestones the size of golf balls.

He hated country music, but his contacts always set the meet location via pager with no callback number. Each time, a different place.

Never a place like this though.

All he could do was sit and sweat, watching dancers shuffle past and wishing he could cover his ears.

Another drink of beer.

Another glance at his watch.

Someone ambled past on his right, a little too close and too fast. He relaxed when a waitress in pink cowboy boots bent down beside him. “A call for you, sir.”

He nodded. He had been contacted by different people over the last year, some men and some women, but never in person. Their voices were always digitally altered, but over time he could recognize differences. Today's caller was one he'd heard several times recently. A powerful person, you could tell that from the way he spoke.

Someone used to giving orders, not taking them.

“Did you get a fix on that item we discussed?” His contact's voice was sharper than usual.

The man at the table frowned. “It's some kind of locker key, just like you thought. I tried National and Dulles, but no match.”

“What about Union Station?”

“No good. They changed to all-plastic keys two years ago. Most other places have phased out their public lockers for security reasons.”

His waitress came back with a new drink, and he paid with a smile, which faded as soon as he was alone again.

His contact went on curtly. “It has to be somewhere in the
downtown area. We had McKade under constant surveillance before he jumped on that school bus.”

He remembered that day all too well. Every plan shot to bits in minutes.

He sat back, frowning at the country singer who was wailing on the narrow stage. “Except for the time he was in the men's room at the Federal Triangle Metro station. What if he slipped out a window?”

There was a long silence. “You mean that he could have dropped something off nearby, then hustled back.”