Operation Sheba (11 page)

Michael frowned. Abby was stressed out and it had little to do with her polygraph. “I didn’t think you gave a damn what other people thought and you shouldn’t. Your intelligence and analytical skills are a huge asset to the counterterrorism department. No one needs to know the details of your past. As far at the polygraph goes, like I told you before, you needed it to cover your butt.”

She shifted in the chair and stared past him out the window. Finally she met his eyes. “I think the truth is I needed it in order to keep your trust.”

He pushed his shoulders back into the chair and mentally debated the merits of continuing the current thread of conversation. Deciding it was pointless to rehash the trust issue, he instead decided to tackle a more urgent issue. “Any more ideas about what Ryan Smith is doing since his return to the States on Tuesday?”

She looked away. “He’s probably doing the same things you are,” she said, her voice curt. “Eating, sleeping, working.”

Abby’s averted gaze made Michael check himself. Her body language all day had been off. Something was definitely up and he wished he could read her mind. He studied her for a moment. “Working on what?” He kept his tone mild.

She shrugged. “I told you he’s tracking the Agency’s mole.”

Leaning over, Michael rested his elbows heavily on the desktop, rubbing a finger around the rim of the blue ceramic mug sitting there. Imprinted with the CIA logo, it was a leftover from an early ’90s administration. Did Abby know something about Smith that she wasn’t telling him? He picked up his pen again, worked it between his fingers. Direct questions weren’t getting him anywhere so he chose a different tactic. “I think someone was watching me with a scope this morning during my run.”

Abigail’s gaze came back to his face, her eyes now showing concern at the turn of the conversation. “Someone watching you? Are you sure?”

He nodded. Waited.

“Who?”

It was his turn to shrug. “Ryan Smith? Possibly the same person who’s bugged your apartment?”

Abigail didn’t move.

Michael stilled the pen. She knew something. Damn, why wasn’t she telling him?

Loyalty. She wouldn’t tell him out of loyalty to Smith. Apparently that carried more weight than loyalty to him. He threw his pen down. “It’s unlikely,” he continued, suddenly wanting to change the subject, “but there is a possibility someone from your past is looking for you.”

Her expression showed mild surprise. “I thought we were presuming I was safe here.”

He locked eyes with her. “I never presume anything, Abby.”

Twisting her ring, she sat silent again.

“Up to this point,” he went on, “we’ve had no reason to believe you were being sought. But you and I both know it pays to be cautious. I want you to watch your back and report anything out of the ordinary. I’ve ordered your apartment and my house swept for bugs and I’ve requested personal round-the-clock surveillance for me during the next forty-eight hours. I’ll request it for you too if you want to be on your own this weekend or”—he watched her carefully—“you can spend the weekend with me.”

She stopped twisting the ring and considered his offer. Then she narrowed her eyes slightly with challenge. “Why? Because you think you need to protect me, Stone?”

He couldn’t miss the teasing tone and he felt himself relax. Maybe he was too tired, or too paranoid. Maybe Abby wasn’t hiding a thing. His mouth quirked in a half-smile. “Actually,
Quinn
, I was hoping
you
would protect
me
.”

She grinned. “No problem, boss.”

Chapter Fourteen

It was nearly dark. Julia killed the Audi’s engine, grabbed the dry cleaning out of the back seat and entered the apartment building. She breathed a sigh of relief once she was behind the door of her apartment. All was quiet and she leaned against the interior wall of the entryway, letting her shoulders sag.

She’d gotten through a tough day without giving anything away. Now she needed to regroup before she headed to Michael’s. He was suspicious and watchful. She knew he’d picked up on her uneasiness, but she’d been able to bluff through his questions well enough she thought he’d chalk it up to her stressful workday.

Spending the weekend with Michael would be another challenge but it would give her the opportunity she needed to hack into his computer and bug his house per Smitty’s instructions. Meanwhile, she had Ace primed and ready to wheedle info out of Con. If everything fell into place like she hoped, by Monday Michael would be in the clear and she would know who the real traitor was.

Julia dropped her keys and iPod on the nightstand and hung the dry cleaning in her closet, turning around to find Conrad in the doorway. Her hand flew to her chest. “Jesus, you scared me. Sneaking up on people is a bad idea, you know. Could get you killed.”

He ignored her jest, his intense gaze regarding her warily. “You’re late. I,
we
, were beginning to get worried about you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m tired, but fine.” She shrugged off her jacket, avoiding his eyes. The memory of what had happened in her bedroom the previous night flashed through her mind. All she wanted to do was get changed, get the bugs from Smitty and get out of there. She needed to stay away from Con and his lips.

“I take it you passed the polygraph.”

“Actually, I failed one very important question. I lied about my name.” She snapped her fingers. “Dr. Passarti caught me on that one.”

“Dr. Piss Ant is still there, huh?”

She nodded and walked to her chest of drawers. “Who did you have watching Michael during his run to the lake this morning?”

“Shit. Did Stone see him?”

Taking out a T-shirt, she threw it on the bed and pulled the sweater off. She was in a hurry, Flynn or no. “He didn’t see anybody, but he knew someone was there. He thinks it was Smitty. Who was it?”

“Ace.”

She dropped the sweater on the bed and shot Conrad an incredulous look. “You let
Ace
do surveillance on Michael for you? What, are you nuts?”

“I was busy this morning and I had to be sure Stone wasn’t rendezvousing with anyone.”

“Has Michael ever rendezvoused with anyone on his runs?”

“No.”

No wonder Ace had been so nervous when she accused him of spying. He really had been. “You are nuts. Ace is not exactly stealth about his surveillance. I had no trouble spotting him following me this morning. The hearse was a dead giveaway.”

“So he’s not a stealth machine. He is trustworthy and loyal, and he doesn’t ask questions. Right now, I don’t have too many loyal friends to pick from when I need help.”

Julia averted her gaze and undid the top button of her jeans. “Why were you and Smitty in London earlier this week?”

Conrad watched Julia’s delicate fingers slip the button of her jeans open and felt his blood begin to pump faster. Jesus Christ, she was going to undress right in front of him. This was good.

“We were watching Cari Von Motz.” He scratched the back of his head. “Are you going somewhere?”

She rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. “Ace’s surveillance has Michael on alert, and before I knew you were living down the hall, I told him about the bugs in the apartment and car. He’s ordered the Office of Security to sweep this place and his so you better sanitize everything. He also called in the Keystone Kops for himself this weekend and offered me two choices: entertain one of them here or spend the weekend at his house. I’m going to his house so I can plant the bugs.” She pulled her camisole out of the waistband of her jeans. “Cari Von Motz?”

He kept his focus locked on her face, but his brain still registered the rest of her. The choker that dangled a pearl between the tiny bones at the base of her throat. The white bra under the plain, pedestrian camisole. The form-fitting jeans she was now unzipping…

Okay, maybe this wasn’t so good. He dropped his gaze to the floor, crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned against the doorjamb.

“Kramer and Durand were there that night. The night I officially died. I concocted a story to get them both there at that abandoned building and I blew them away with it. But I let Cari live. She was my link to Langley.

“Smitty helped you get back to the States and under Langley’s protective wing. I had already set up a post here when you arrived. Smitty went back to Europe to start tracking down Cari. We thought we’d be able to get the evidence we needed from her, but she dropped out of sight. Five months ago, she turned up in London trying to get a job with the German embassy. Smitty disappeared from his position so he could shadow her constantly. We believed she was still in touch with her source from Langley and we didn’t want to lose her again.”

Julia walked to the closet to kick off her high heels. “And?”

“Last week, Smitty thought she was gearing up to meet with her source. He was afraid she might disappear again so he asked me to come and help him. We decided we’d follow her 24/7 and check out anyone she so much as looked twice at, but she jumped on a plane and flew to America late Monday night before we realized she was leaving the country. Smitty and I followed on the next international flight out Tuesday morning, but we haven’t been able to locate her yet. We know she has to be somewhere close.”

Julia was back on the other side of the bed. She didn’t move and he looked up to find her staring at him with her hands on her hips. “You know you went about this all wrong. If you had kept me in the game, I could have buddied up to Cari Von Motz at the very beginning and solved this for you months ago.” She pulled the camisole off and threw it on the bed. “Now you’ve got a major mess on your hands.”

“Cari would’ve figured out who you were and put a bullet between your eyes,” he challenged.

Julia glared at him. “Why don’t you go get the listening devices from Smitty for Michael’s house so I can get going?”

Damn, his stomach hurt. Julia was spending the weekend with Stone. And that’s exactly what he needed her to do. Get in the house, set up the bugs and extract any damning evidence she could get her hands on. But it wasn’t what he
wanted
her to do. No, he wanted her to spend the weekend, the rest of her life, with him.

“I’ll get them in a minute. Did Smitty go over with you where to plant the bugs?”

She pulled the clip out of her hair and ran a hand through the dark tresses. “He told me to use my best judgment.”

Conrad shifted his focus away from her again, but his peripheral vision was taking in everything and his stomach wasn’t feeling any better. She was challenging him in her bra and low-rise jeans. Her unbuttoned, unzipped low-rise jeans.

He cleared his throat. “I want one by each phone in the house and one in—”

“Why didn’t you plant them yourself when you were there yesterday morning?” she interrupted as she drew the T-shirt over her head.

“It was too risky. There wasn’t enough time.” He chanced a glance at her face. “My mission yesterday was to see you, not plant bugs.”

Julia hesitated before tucking her shirt in and then deciding against it, pulled it back out. She slid one foot into a Puma. He knew she was wrestling with something. She velcroed the strap and put the other sneaker on. Then she turned her poker face on him. “All the phones? You know there’s one in the bedroom.”

And just about every other room we do it in.
The unsaid words hung between them. He watched as she zipped and buttoned the pants before looking up at him again.

Conrad turned his focus to her open closet, made his mind log the clothes hanging there so he could keep control of the jealousy burning his stomach. He didn’t want her to see it on his face. Didn’t want her to know just how bad he hurt.

As if the previous seventeen months hadn’t been hard enough…watching and listening to her day in and day out without being able to touch her, talk to her, occupy space in the same room with her.

Now, he
was
in the same room with her, but she wasn’t welcoming him with open arms. The passionate kisses and this undressing scene were all part of some whacko plan to make him suffer. It was working too.

Especially when she was bluntly warning him she’d be getting naked with Stone this weekend. Of course he could turn off the receiver,
would definitely
turn off the receiver when that happened. Imagining her with the bastard was hard enough. Hearing her sigh and moan and call his name in the heat of passion would send Conrad over the edge.

Taking a minute to control his emotions, he ran a familiar mental drill of cleaning his gun. He wasn’t the only one who could bluff. “Well, Jules dear, you can put your mind at ease. I’m quite familiar with your screwing preferences.” His voice lowered in pitch. “I don’t need an audio replay.”

She froze, her eyes widening a fraction before she turned away. “You are a tactless son of a bitch.” Returning to her closet, she hung up the cashmere sweater, then crossed back to the bed and slid a short purple v-neck shirt over her head, refusing to look at him.

Christ, now what had he done? He hadn’t come here to hurt her, alienate her even more. He’d just wanted to talk to her, wanted to try and mend the rift he’d caused between them…but he was never good at this kind of war. In the war of words, jealousy made him say stupid things. Especially when he knew she was playing him for a horny idiot.

“Poor Julia.” He laughed without humor. “Stuck between a traitor and a tactless son of a bitch.”

Her gaze came up to meet his, anger burning bright. Taking a step toward the bed, he stared back at her. “I feel real sorry for you, sweetheart, but guess what? We’re all getting fucked on this merry-go-round. One way or the other every one of us is taking it in the shorts. Why should you be the exception?”

He saw her hands clench and then she forcibly relaxed them. Her voice came out low and controlled. “Why are you being an asshole to me? I agreed to help you,
even after what you did to me.
I’m sacrificing my loyalty to Michael to help you. Why are you treating me this way?”

“Just like I told you last night. You always have a choice. You don’t have to help me. You’re free to walk away.”

“Free?” Her voice rose with anger. She pointed a finger at him. “You forced me into this, and until it’s over, I won’t be free of it or you. Oh no, I’ll see it through, thank you. I’m going to be right there when you nail this guy. That’s what you want, isn’t it? You want me there when you nail Michael? Prove to me you’re a better man than he is?”

Conrad held his breath and counted to ten. She’d called his bluff. He couldn’t stand fighting with her. “What I want is you, Jules.” His voice was sincere, reasonable. “I want you here with me, not at Stone’s mansion on the hill.”

“Stop it.”

“You don’t belong with—”

“Shut up, Flynn.”

“—him. You belong with me.” He jabbed a thumb into his chest, hating himself for always pushing her, but unable to stop. “I want your tongue in
my
mouth and your legs wrapped around
my
waist. I want you—”

“
Shut up!
”

“—totally, completely here with
me
.”

She jumped up on the bed, crossed it in one step and came at him, pushing him up against the wall with unbelievable force for someone he outweighed by seventy pounds.

“You have no right.” She slammed her hands into his chest again. “You have no goddamn right to me anymore!”

Conrad stood still, looking into her eyes and hating himself. Hating the whole damn mess he’d gotten both of them into. “You’re right,” he said softly. He grabbed her arms and gently pushed her back a step. “I’ll go get those listening devices for you.”

She deflated like a balloon and dropped her hands to her sides. The green eyes he would die for looked at him unflinchingly. “It’s not him, Con,” she said, almost pleading. “Michael is no traitor.”

Conrad refused to acknowledge her statement as he slipped out of the room and headed for the door.

Goddamn,
he thought,
Michael Stone is one lucky man.