Silent Weapon (15 page)

Half a dozen other patrons, most less-than-friendly-looking and definitely the type one would find on skid row, loitered around the small dining area. The tiled floor hadn’t seen a mop in so long that it was hard to tell if the color was red or brown.

I swallowed. Told myself I wasn’t hungry, though I hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

Barlow walked in, and all thought of grime and the various food poisonings one might get from dining here flew out of my mind. He didn’t spare me a glance, simply strolled up to the counter and ordered a hot dog and cola.

My throat constricted and I hoped the order was part of his cover. But when he slathered the hot dog with mustard and ketchup and took a bite I knew it wasn’t. My stomach twisted at the mere thought.

He sat down at my table, looked at my untouched drink and then at me.
You aren’t hungry?

I peered at the hot dog in his hand and tried my best not to let my distaste show. “I’m fine,” I lied.

Barlow jerked his head toward the counter. “Frank here makes the best hot dogs in town.”

I looked around the small, ah…quaint café, and nodded. “That’s good to know.”

Barlow leaned forward as if he didn’t want anyone to hear his next comment.
Don’t let the appearance fool you.
He shoved the hot dog toward me.
Try it.

I stared at it, then shook my head. “I don’t think so.” I would be the first to admit the concoction smelled good, but there was no way I was taking a bite out of it.

Come on, Walters, be a sport.

I licked my lips and told myself he’d thrown down a gauntlet. I couldn’t refuse.

Praying I wouldn’t regret it, I took a bite. The taste exploded in my mouth. Not the ketchup or mustard but the spicy meat. “Wow,” I confessed. “It
is
good.”

Barlow smiled, one of those lopsided ones that only he could pull off.
Truth is, everything behind that counter is more spotless than the highest-rated joint in the city.

Two hot dogs later, I got down to business and told Barlow all I’d learned during Hammond’s meeting and about the man in the garage. I’d given him the crumpled business card. He made no comments about the name embossed there. I could only assume it wasn’t familiar to him. He’d have to check it out, I supposed.

You didn’t recognize any of his guests?
He’d asked that one already. He seemed much more concerned about the meeting today than the poor man in the garage the other night.

I mustered my patience. “No.”

Anything else to report?

I thought about that one for a moment. I wasn’t sure I needed to tell him this part, but then again…

“Mason Conrad,” I began. “I think I can get close to him.” The memory of him touching my cheek made me shiver. “I think he…likes me.”

The reaction I got was far from what I had expected. I blinked, resisted the urge to lean as far from Barlow as possible. His glower was lethal.

I want to be absolutely certain we’re clear on this,
Barlow said, his face as hard as granite.
Under no circumstances are you to get involved with any of these men. Mason Conrad is a killer. He could be using you. Just because you believe they’ve all accepted you over the course of the past week doesn’t mean it’s true. Conrad may be attempting to get under your defenses.

I shook my head. He didn’t know all the details. “You don’t understand. He—”

No.
A muscle flexed in his tense jaw when he snapped out the word. His entire demeanor loudly telegraphed his fury.
You don’t understand, do not get involved with Conrad. Stay clear or I will pull the plug on this operation.

“I should get back.”

I’d stormed out of the café and reached my car before he slowed me down. He took me by the shoulder and turned me around to face him.

I know this is difficult. Your eyes tell you one thing, while your brain warns of another. Hammond and his people put on a great show. But Conrad is a killer. He won’t hesitate to kill you if he suspects for a single second that you’re up to something. Don’t doubt my word. You can bet that guy you saw in the garage the other night is a goner.

I looked away. Didn’t want to hear his words. I wanted to argue that Vargas was that man’s killer. Maybe I had been naive about the thing with Mason Conrad, but I wasn’t completely stupid. I didn’t appreciate Barlow treating me as if I were a total idiot.

He took my face in his hands. My breath stalled somewhere in my throat.
Listen to me,
he said when he’d forced my gaze back to his lips.
You want to believe the best in people and that can be a mistake. Trust me on this, Merri. Stay away from Mason Conrad.

I opened my mouth to argue with him. To tell him I wasn’t a complete fool, but something in his eyes stopped me. He was no longer looking at my eyes…his gaze had dropped to my lips. When he at last looked at me again I saw the longing there. Heat detonated inside me, warring with the feelings of frustration his reprimand had elicited.

As if he’d realized his mistake he released me, backed away a step.
Be careful.
With that final warning he walked away. I watched in astonished silence.

It had to be my imagination. I knew my limitations. It wasn’t possible that two men would be attracted to me. I was handicapped, for Christ’s sake. What did I have to offer anyone? I was the one suffering from the attraction malady, not the men in my life. Apparently I was also suffering from delusions.

Maybe Barlow was right. Conrad was likely trying to determine if I was on the up-and-up. Barlow, well, he probably just felt sorry for me. I had to get a grip here. No man would really want me.

My ego stinging, I got into my car and backed out of the parking lot. I drove, my thoughts preoccupied with Barlow’s warning. How could I have been so stupid? Of course Conrad wasn’t really attracted to me.

It was a ploy to distract me. To get close to me. The same ploy I’d hoped to utilize. Only I lacked the experience to get one step ahead of my enemy. No matter how I tried to kid myself, it was becoming more and more clear that I was not cut out for this kind of work.

Several blocks later I stopped for a light. I heaved a sigh and told myself I had to get over it. I had managed to bring Barlow some information. Something was going down with Hammond and his people. Some sort of deal. A man connected to Hammond’s organization was likely dead. That was something, wasn’t it?

In my peripheral vision a couple on the sidewalk snagged my attention.

Sarah and my
brother.

Oh, my God!

I slid down in the seat, praying they wouldn’t look this way. If Michael saw me I would be done for. Between him and his wife they would put two and two together and come up with five…my scam would be uncovered. Although it was already dark, the street and shop lights made me plenty visible to pedestrians on the sidewalks. I should have insisted on meeting Barlow somewhere out of town.

Sarah and Michael stopped and peered through the windows of a small shop. My curiosity getting the better of me, I squinted to see what they were looking at. My eyes went wide with recognition. A baby boutique. Sarah turned to Michael and smiled. He kissed her, then rubbed her tummy.

She was pregnant! A big, goofy grin stretched across my face. I was finally going to be an aunt!

The light changed and I let off the brake. I couldn’t resist one last look at my brother and my best friend. They looked so happy. They still stood in front of the shop, arms wrapped around each other.

At least something was going right.

My favorite sister-in-law was pregnant. My parents would be thrilled. A frown elbowed its way onto my face. Wait. Had she known before I left? Why hadn’t she told me?

Maybe she’d only just found out.

The urge to call her was very nearly overwhelming. But I couldn’t do it. Lying was something I found particularly hard to do. Especially when it came to my family. I couldn’t take the risk that she would recognize the lie in my voice if she asked how things were going at my school.

I floated up the mountain, then smiled for the guard at each gate. I parked near the garage, didn’t encounter anyone else as I made my way inside and to my room. I’d dropped by a store I seldom shopped at and picked up a blouse before my meeting with Barlow. That way I wouldn’t return to the house empty-handed. I tossed my purchase onto the couch in my room and headed to the kitchen. I could use a bottle of water or a glass of iced tea. Anything to dampen my parched throat.

What I really needed, I realized as I opened the bottle of Evian, was a long workout to burn off this adrenaline. Another run at this time of night wouldn’t be too smart. Between the meeting with Barlow and the close encounter with Sarah and Michael I was pretty worked up.

I decided on a stroll around the house to see what everyone was up to. I had to keep my eyes open for any additional info or any new faces.

No one in the study or dining room. I glanced at my watch, almost nine. Maybe Hammond had gone out. Cecilia was likely upstairs tucking Tiffany in for the night.

I hesitated at the door of the den and took a second look. Tiffany was huddled on the sofa watching TV Land, her favorite channel. Surprised that she was still up I walked into the room and pinned a smile into place. It wasn’t difficult, I loved the kid.

When she looked up, my smile faltered.

Her eyes were red and swollen from crying.

I immediately sat down next to her and took her into my arms. She sobbed even harder then. I rocked her like a baby and murmured kind words. She cried for a long time before she looked up at me and said,
I hate Cecilia.

I shrugged and tried to look confused, but she ignored my signals.

She’s mean to me all the time. I hate her.
Tiff’s bottom lip poked out.
I think she only keeps this job because she wants my dad to like her.

I made no comment, just held her tightly and smoothed a hand over her silky hair. How could I have misjudged Cecilia so profoundly? I’d thought she seemed nice. Well, there had been a moment yesterday when I was reading to Tiffany that I’d thought she didn’t look too pleased, but nothing really specific.

I closed my eyes and held on to the sobbing child. What if I was in too deep here? Hell, I couldn’t even spot the bad guys when I’d had advance knowledge of their identity.

Tiffany pulled out of my arms and stared up at me, her cheeks wet with tears.
I wish you were my au pair.

I tugged my PDA around to where she could see it. Somehow it had ended up behind me. I offered it to the child. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

Tiffany just stared at me as if to say, sure you do.

I’m going to bed.
She climbed out of my lap and headed toward the door. I wasn’t sure what to say. Any words I’d thought might be useful deserted me when my gaze landed on Cecilia standing in the doorway.

When our gazes collided she managed a stiff smile. She turned as Tiffany passed her and followed her charge. Despite her smile I hadn’t missed the sheer hatred in her eyes. Apparently my blossoming friendship with Tiffany bothered Cecilia more than I had suspected.

Way more.

Chapter 12

I
wasn’t quite so chipper the next morning as I went about my duties. I hadn’t slept well the night before. I kept thinking of the look on Cecilia’s face when she discovered Tiffany and me in the den. I couldn’t be sure how much she’d overheard of what the little girl had to say. The best I could hope for was that she would assume I hadn’t understood any of the conversation, thereby preventing her from being even more angry than she no doubt would be considering the child’s assertions.

The idea of her taking out her fury on Tiffany worried me. Had actually kept me distracted all morning. I looked for the child first thing. Smiled at her while she devoured her cereal in the dining room with her father. He’d noticed and gifted me with one of those looks that said he appreciated my affection for his daughter.

I just couldn’t reconcile the two sides of the man. The man I had come to know over the past week was gentle and generous. He loved children and went to extraordinary means to help those less fortunate—which was most of the civilized world. Yet, I’d seen with my own eyes that he would order the execution of another human being if things didn’t go as planned or if he wasn’t happy with the outcome of a particular venture.

I smoothed the fresh pillowcase on the fluffy pillow and set it into place. I had to remember, God knows Barlow had told me often enough, that I wasn’t here to understand these people. I was here to gather information and pass it along, nothing more.

With a heavy sigh I bent down and picked up the pillowcases and sheets I’d removed from the bed. This was the last room. Mason Conrad’s room.

His name popped into my head at the same instant the scent permeating the sheets, an aroma that was uniquely his, filtered past my preoccupation. I felt overly warm instantly, as if he’d walked into the room and touched me the way he had before.

I closed my eyes and forced away the ridiculous thoughts. I just couldn’t keep dwelling on the way he looked at me or how kind he was to me. Barlow was right on that score. There was every reason to believe that Conrad might be using me, making sure I was who and what I’d claimed to be.

Funny thing was, after a two-year drought, I was suddenly inundated with male attention, and quite frankly, I felt a little off balance.

Before I’d trudged halfway across the room the door burst open and Tiffany bolted in.

Hi, Miss Merri!

I smiled, couldn’t help myself.

“Good morning, Miss Tiffany,” I teased.

She grabbed my left hand, causing me to have to shift my load to one arm.
Come on, you gotta visit with me!

I manufactured a look of confusion. “What?”

Oops!
She pressed her hand to her mouth.
Guess I forgot.
Then she gestured for me to follow her.

Feigning uncertainty, I allowed the child to tow me to her room. She picked up the book we’d started yesterday and showed it to me. She pointed to the book and then to herself.
I want you to read some more to me.
She tapped the book again, then her chest.

The sweet little girl looked so hopeful. How could I say no? But I had work to do. The beds were all taken care of and the laundry, save for the bundle in my arms, had been tossed down the chute, but there were a dozen more little things to do downstairs.

“Let me finish up with my work downstairs and I’ll read to you when I take my lunch break. That okay?” I infused as much excitement as I possessed just then into the words. Not for a second did I want her to think I didn’t want to read to her. But I had to remember why I was here…that had to take precedence.

Tiffany looked past me. I turned around to find Luther Hammond waiting in the open doorway. My face heated with embarrassment. What would he think with me standing in the middle of his daughter’s room with a bundle of laundry in my arms? Getting fired was very close to the top of my don’t-want-to-happen list, right under don’t get caught.

Hammond spoke to his daughter as she loped over to him, the love for her evident on his face as well as in his posture. How could he love his daughter so much and have such little regard for the life of others? I barely resisted the urge to shake my head at the paradox he represented.

When he looked up again he moved in my direction. My heart bumped out a faster rhythm but, incredibly, I kept my composure in place when every instinct screamed at me to make my excuses and get out of there.

Hammond lifted the PDA from beneath my load of laundry and entered a message that read:
Your kindness toward my daughter means a great deal to me. Never concern yourself with your duties if she requests your attention. You have my permission to use your own judgment in how you utilize your time.

“Yes, sir.” I hoped my voice didn’t squeak, but my throat felt tight with trepidation.

He laid the PDA back against my hip, then patted my arm once, reassuringly, before leaving the room. I worked hard to control my breathing so that Tiffany wouldn’t see how anxious the scene had made me. She yanked at my arm and I looked down at her.

Grinning widely, she said,
You don’t need to be afraid of my father. He likes you.
She glanced back at the door.
More than Cecilia, I think.

As hard as I tried not to react to Tiffany’s words, I couldn’t resist a glance at the door. Having Cecilia overhear a comment like that was not a good idea.

Tiffany pulled at my arm again.
We have a secret.
She pressed her finger to her lips, then added,
I’ll never tell.

By the grace of God I kept my own smile in place. Lying to myself any longer was out of the question. This child knew my secret. I could only pray that she would keep it.

I skipped lunch to make up for the time I’d spent with Tiffany. Technically I understood that it wasn’t necessary, but I didn’t want Connie or Marjorie to start looking at me with the same suspicion that I now saw in Cecilia’s eyes. When she’d discovered me reading to Tiffany in the middle of the morning her expression had turned blatantly accusing, as if she fully suspected that I was out to get her job.

Trying to influence her otherwise would be pointless, so I didn’t. I just went about my chores and ignored her. Probably made bad matters worse, but I didn’t care. I had a job to do and it didn’t include appeasing her.

I mentally stopped myself for a moment. Okay, that was catty. Was I jealous of Cecilia? Maybe. She was beautiful and had all her senses. Sure I was envious. She was an au pair and I was a mere maid. A smile tickled the corners of my mouth. But I was also an undercover agent and she was just…a bitch with a fancy job title.

A tap on the shoulder brought me around and face-to-face with Marjorie. She was several inches shorter than me and a couple of decades older, fifty maybe. Her hair had gone gray and she, apparently, didn’t care. But she had nice brown eyes. I would wager there wasn’t a jealous or vain bone in her body. I liked her more every day.

She entered whatever she had to say into the PDA:
Thanks for covering for me yesterday.
She made a yucky face.
Twenty-four-hour bug or something.

“No problem. I was glad to do it,” I assured the kind woman.

She nodded appreciatively, then entered another message:
Do you mind picking up the dry cleaning at the guest house and putting it into my car? The cleaning team failed to do that this morning. I’ve got my hands full cleaning up after Connie right now, but I’ll take it into town when I go home this evening. I’m just afraid I’ll forget it if it’s not in my car.

“I’ll be glad to.”

Marjorie entered directions on where to look and I was off. Any excuse to get out of the house was fine by me. The sun was still high in the sky and the weather was perfect. The cleaning team had come in and started the vacuuming while I read to Tiffany. Two men and one woman, the team worked efficiently. In just a few hours they’d finished their tasks, leaving gleaming surfaces all through the house. If I’d had time to follow along and watch, I’m certain I would have found them quite amazing and picked up invaluable tips.

Locating what looked like a large walk-in closet off the kitchen on the first floor of the guest house wasn’t difficult. The main chute brought laundry down from all the upstairs bedrooms. A commercial-size washer and dryer took up space on one wall, while shelves of fresh linens, sheets, blankets, towels and the like lined another. The open plantation shutters on the one window allowed for looking out onto the deck and the magnificent view behind the guest house. The bag marked with one of the city’s dry-cleaning business logos sat next to the washing machine.

Just as I reached for the bag, movement on the deck stole my attention.

Vargas had walked to the banister and lit up a cigarette. A plume of blue smoke rose above his head and was then carried away by the ever-present breeze that mountaintop living afforded. This man was a complete enigma. He never spoke to me. Had only said hello that first time we were introduced and nothing since. When in the main house he paid no attention whatsoever to Cecilia, but I hadn’t forgotten their secret rendezvous the other night. I wondered about that.

A frown worried my brow as I thought about what Tiffany had said. She believed Cecilia was interested in her father. If that were the case, then why the affair with Vargas? Maybe Tiffany was wrong. Then again, maybe Cecilia was more calculating than I knew. She certainly had no use for me anymore. Not that there was any real love lost, but I didn’t need or want her causing me trouble.

I hoisted the laundry bag into my arms and started to head back to the main house when Cecilia joined Vargas on the deck. Okay, I had to see what these two were up to now. Hammond and Conrad were in a meeting. Tiff and the rest of the staff were back at the main house. These two could be up to most anything. Mainly I just wanted to see what they would do next, given the opportunity.

Letting the bundle fall back to the floor, I eased closer to the window and pressed against the wall right next to it so I wouldn’t be easily seen if either of them looked in this direction.

Cecilia started off on a rampage. Since her back was to me I had no choice but to watch for Vargas’s responses to get some gist of the conversation.

She’s just a maid. A deaf one at that. She’s no threat to you, doll.

I’d been right. Cecilia was threatened by my relationship with Tiffany. And maybe the child was correct as well in her assumption that her au pair was after her father. I could see that.

Cecilia flung her arms high and went on another tirade. The move jerked her blouse loose from the waistband of her skirt. Vargas noticed.

All you have to do,
he said, grabbing her by the arms and pulling her close,
is keep your cool until this is over. Mathers will take care of the rest. Hammond won’t even know what hit him.

I went ice cold. I tried to assess what those last two statements meant, but my mind could wrap around only one possibility. Vargas and Cecilia were plotting with Mathers to overthrow Hammond or maybe kill him. My heart pounded so fast I could hardly breathe, but I had to pay attention…had to see if Vargas said more that would help shed additional light on their plans.

If you lose your cool, you’ll blow the whole plan. We have to keep the status quo until the time is right. Any wrong move right now could ruin everything. All eyes are on Hammond. We have to do this right.

Vargas pulled her closer still and she pounded on his chest with her fists. He only laughed, then said,
I know how to take the fight out of you.

He ripped off her blouse. I gasped. Almost backed away, but some morbid fascination held me in place. He pulled her bra down and sucked violently on the bared breast. Her fingers fisted in the fabric of his jacket and her back arched, giving him better access to the flesh he plundered so ruthlessly.

My trembling fingers went to my lips. I told myself to turn away, but somehow I couldn’t. I needed to…see. I rationalized my actions with the idea that I might learn more information. But it was a lie. I simply couldn’t look away. The cold hard fear that had filled my veins gave way to a forbidden heat…a lust that burned red hot. Truth was, I missed the feel of a man’s hands on my body. I needed to be wanted. A wounded moan welled in my throat.

As I watched, Vargas pushed up the hem of Cecilia’s skirt and ripped off her skimpy panties. My hand trapped a gasp as he hefted her legs up around his waist. Her fingers were in his hair and she kissed him frantically…as if she couldn’t get enough of how he tasted.

As he braced her against his torso with one hand he used the other to wrench open his trousers and pull himself free. I stumbled back a step at the sight of his hard, upright sex. He brought her down onto him in one brutal plunge. Her entire body reacted, tensing, bucking. Her mouth had opened in a cry of ecstasy that stirred memories of my own cries of need…sounds I’d almost forgotten.

I backed up another step. I couldn’t watch any more. Watching them brought to the surface just how badly I ached to know that kind of fulfillment once more. How had I let my personal life fall apart? I grabbed for the bundle and turned to go, but bumped into an immovable wall.

Mason Conrad.

For several seconds I couldn’t breathe much less speak. Need still throbbed deep inside me…angst still tightened my throat. Finally I managed to say, “I’m sorry. I…I came for the laundry.” I wanted to be afraid…to be embarrassed. Instead every part of me that made me female was either stinging with anticipation or drenched with want.

His gaze dropped to my breasts and I felt certain he could see the rock-hard peaks of my nipples through my clothing. Heat rushed to my cheeks. I didn’t have to look behind me to know that beyond the window the sexual activity had likely increased in ferocity.

He reached down and took the heavy bundle from me. The move prompted another harsh intake of breath. He noticed.