The Impossible Alliance (19 page)

“What I want is to not feel so bloody exposed.”

His head came up, three inches from her naked navel and the inner curves of her braless breasts. A half smile crooked his lips. “I've got news for you, sweetheart. You are exposed. And this time I had nothing to do with it.”

She smacked the back of his head as he returned to the lock. “Jerk.” Three seconds later she caught the blessed click as the padlock's internal mechanism gave way and breathed out her relief. “Thank God.”

He glanced at her in surprise.

Great.
She probably should have waited until he'd actually opened the damn thing before she'd said something. Fortunately Jared didn't have time wait around and question her. He eased the door open and they were off again.

As before, he knew the route, so he took the lead.

Three more guards and three more knockout darts later, they arrived at the inner door Jared was supposed to have stopped at on the way out of the castle the week before, but hadn't in his quest to save her hide. She closed her eyes, blocking out the scuff of Jared's shoes, the magnified scrapes and clicks, as he hunkered down to work on this lock, too.

The room beyond the door was silent. Empty.

The mechanism gave way. He tucked his left hand inside the right cuff of his tux, deftly trading the pick for one of the deadlier pieces of his cutlery collection.

She nudged the razor-sharp knife back up his sleeve. “We're good to go.”

“How can you possibly know—” Before he could finish, Alex twisted the knob and slipped inside, flipping on the light. “One of these days, you're going to have to explain that.”

One day, she would. But not now. Right now, she gaped. They both gaped. Though they'd discussed this end of the
operation in detail, neither of them had been sure what to expect. It sure as hell wasn't this. DeBruzkya wasn't merely filthy rich. The man was Midas incarnate.

A waist-high worktable had been set up along one side of the lab. A spectrometer, an electron microscope and gem scale flanked the sides of the black table. But the focal point was not the array of scientific equipment, but the large wooden chest in the center. It was filled with gems. Every blessed variety on the planet.

Diamonds, rubies, emeralds, sapphires, garnets, topaz, amethysts and every crystal formation in between. Fluorescent light from the ceiling reflected off the sparkling stones, igniting a thousand, miniature shimmering rainbows within the room. The jewels themselves ranged from less than a carat to more than fifty. The only thing each gem in the blinding cache had in common was that each and every one had been removed from its original gold, silver or platinum setting. She knew, because the skeletal rings, necklace pendants and brooch settings were still piled haphazardly within two open crates that'd been shoved beneath the table. Crates that also flanked a safe.

A completely closed and securely locked safe.

“Christ.”

She glanced up.

“I don't do safes. Not without an explosive. Never quite got the hang of them.”

She stepped forward. “Help me get it on the table.”

“Why? You got a stethoscope in those ears, too?” But he stepped forward along with her, dragging the safe out from under the table and hefting it up on top by himself.

“Thanks.” She tucked the loose curls behind her right ear and got straight to work. By the time she'd clicked through all three stages of the tumbler and jerked the lever up to swing the steel door open, his confusion had mutated into awe. She flushed. “I wear a hearing aid. It's…sensitive.”

“I guess so. It also explains a lot.”

She swung back to the safe, uncomfortable with the admiration within his eyes, amber eyes that glowed more fiercely and more beautifully than all the gems beside her combined. If he knew the rest, there was a good chance it wouldn't be there. He might not react as Don had, but she doubted he'd be thrilled. She could only pray he'd still be…interested.

“It's not here.”

He was right. Other than the notebook resting on the bottom shelf, the molded bed of velvet on the upper shelf, the safe was completely empty. She snagged the book and flipped through several pages of heavy Delmonican scrawl.

Eureka!
Her excitement must have shown.

“What is it?”

“These are Karl's notes. Records of several scientific tests he conducted on a particular ruby. I'll need time, but I should be able to translate them.” The devil with time, what she really needed was a—

“Camera?” The man had gotten way too good at reading her mind.

She nodded. His crooked smiled hooked directly into her stomach as he held out his hand. She passed him the notebook and forced out her breath as she moved back to the door to stand guard. By the time she turned, he was flipping through the fifty-plus pages with a speed that completely floored her. He'd pause ever so slightly at each chemical formula and diagram, but other than that the scorching gaze never even slowed down.

That was when it hit her.

Hit, hell, the realization slammed into her so hard she nearly gasped. This was about more than losing his memory. Even about more than losing his mother. Like most loving sons, like most Alzheimer's patients themselves, Jared might have been able to come to terms with both those blows eventually, but to lose the very core of his identity? What then? Did he wonder if there would be anything left?

All this man had ever had that was truly his own was his brain. His insatiable thirst for knowledge. A thirst that not even a missing high-school and college education had been able to dampen. He'd just gone out and gotten it on his own. She didn't have to ask how deeply he'd delved into his local library's stacks growing up. She already knew it was deeper than she'd get in her entire lifetime.

But the same gift that had forged this man's rigid backbone and fierce pride had also set him up for thrice the blow. One he might decide he wouldn't recover from, despite her plea tonight.

“Done.”

She blinked. “Already?”

He flushed.
Welcome to the freak show.

What else had he been called growing up? She didn't want to know. She smiled softly, instead. “I'm right beside you.”

And she was.

Between the two of them, they had the notebook back inside the safe, the safe securely tucked beneath the table, the light off and door locked behind them. Three still-slumbering guards later, and Jared was relocking the outer door, as well. The two outer guards were precisely where they'd been left, too, snuggled up beside the bushes. Given the peach fuzz on the jaws of all five soldiers, the young men would be too terrified to admit to DeBruzkya that some mythical intruder had either gotten the drop on them or they'd fallen asleep on watch. Soldier shortage notwithstanding, they had to know by now that to displease the general was to earn a one-way ticket to a cold, bugle-less funeral. She didn't argue when Jared grabbed her hand and spun her around, half dragging her with him as he headed for the trees.

She wasn't interested in a Rebelian funeral, either. Hers or his.

She was fairly confident they could avoid both, right up until they reached the base of the stone balcony. It wasn't
the height of the granite wall that daunted her. She and Jared could scale those massive, uneven blocks blindfolded. It was the voices. Orloff's—and another man's. A man she didn't recognize. And not only were they speaking Rebelian, they were rounding the far side of the balcony—at ground level.

Jared caught the swift cock of Alex's head and knew something was wrong. Very wrong. “Someone's coming?”

“Yes.”

Blast it to hell. They were almost
there.
He lowered his whisper to match hers. “How close?”

“Very.”

There was only one solution then.

He pulled Alex close. He caught her swift gasp and swallowed it as he nudged the back of that clingy, shimmering sheath into the hewn stones behind her, a split second later he was forced to swallow his own gasp as he pressed right up against the sheath's nonexistent front. Right up against her. Harold Blaine's genius aside, he much preferred this warm, soft chest to that cold, rubber one. So did his body. His hands. So much so, the darn things actually quaked in anticipation as he dragged them up the side of that clingy sheath and delved them straight into the V, greedily cupping the curves beneath. He meant what he'd said.

An absolutely perfect handful.

The next gasp he consumed was low and husky and filled with enough raw passion to match the desire now raging through his body, as well as his mind and heart. By the time those voices rounded the corner, he couldn't be sure if the next gasp had come from Alex or himself. Either way, it did the trick.

The crude chuckle behind them confirmed it.

He didn't have to feign reluctance as he turned to face an older soldier he'd yet to meet, much less peg from the photo array that made up the agency's collection of DeBruzkya's advisers. The man must indeed be important to the general's plans to have remained unphotographed by
Marty for five years. Judging from the Rebelian ranking insignia stitched to the ends of the man's camouflaged fatigues, he was a colonel. But did he have a voice?

“You must be Dr. Coleman.”

Evidently so. And a piercing stare to go with it.

Jared stuck out his right hand, careful to keep Alex behind him as she finished restoring the precarious fit to that scrap of fabric Marty called a dress. “Jeff. It's a pleasure to meet you, Colonel…?”

Orloff stepped forward. “Sokolov. I just met the colonel myself ten minutes ago. Apparently the dastardly rebels have advanced farther than was originally reported. Colonel Sokolov and his men must leave to do what they do best. As must we.”

Sokolov nodded. But that stare was still piercing. Still suspicious.

Orloff attempted to cover the moment with a knowing grin. “As you can see, Colonel, I was right. Dr. Coleman and his lovely wife, Alice, were merely enjoying an evening…walk.”

The stare flicked past his left shoulder, to Alex. The suspicion finally ebbed. A thin smile replaced it. “So I see. And did you? Did you enjoy yourself, Frau Coleman?”

“I did, Colonel. The grounds are lovely. And it's very warm tonight.” Even with Alex behind his back, Jared could feel the slow flush, the calculated, but seemingly natural awkwardness in her voice. But there was something else, too. Something he couldn't quite place.

But he couldn't risk turning around. In Rebelia, women were second-class citizens. With the colonel suspicious, it would only hurt both their covers to defer to her now.

Sokolov nodded, then promptly ignored her. “Dr. Orloff is right. The skirmish has—how do you say it?—gotten out of hand. And so, you must leave. The party is over. This way, please. The helicopter awaits.” The colonel, however, didn't.

Orloff turned to follow Sokolov back around the corner
of the balcony, leaving him and Alex to bring up the rear. But when Jared turned and finally caught a glimpse of her face, he wasn't sure she could move, much less speak. It was as if she was frozen, trying to absorb a shock to her system. A damned powerful one, too. He was right, something was wrong.

“What is it?” He slipped his hand behind her neck and used his thumb to tilt her chin up. “Honey?”

Her shiver unnerved him. “Did you see the pockmark on his face? That's the man who killed Karl. The man who kidnapped me.”

S
he was dreaming again.

Jared lifted the laptop from his thighs, a moment from leaning over and setting it on the nightstand beside the bed in Orloff's guest room, when the tension locking Alex's limbs finally eased. His own tension eased as the furrow between her brows smoothed and her breathing evened out.

She was resting peacefully again.

He returned the computer to his thighs so he could finish. Finish, hell, he'd barely started. Two hours had passed and he'd entered all of thirteen pitiful pages onto the laptop's hard drive. Memorizing was easy. But typing? Now that was hard. Took too blasted long, too.

He hit the return key and settled back against the bed's headboard, determined to ignore the smooth curves splayed out beside him as he continued to tap out word after word in a language he didn't even understand onto the keys and then the screen. At first he'd been relieved when he'd noticed Alex succumbing to exhaustion. Knowing her soft, yet sharp gaze was taking in his every movement as he
worked, that that bionic ear registered his every sound right down to his studied breaths, had been disconcerting, to say the least.

The moment the chopper had landed on top of the hospital's dilapidated helicopter pad, Orloff had been called away. Yes, Alex had been able to peg Sokolov as the man who struck her. But that was all. The lack of case-specific answers during the cab ride home had led to silence. To that question she'd asked him out on that balcony.
“If I'm willing to run the risk, if I'm willing to take the chance, who are you to tell me no?”

But it was his right, wasn't it?

Dammit, two weeks ago he'd known exactly where he stood. Exactly what the grim reaper had in store for him and exactly how ugly it would get before it was all over. He'd even come to terms with it. Probably because he'd always known that this was how it was going to play out. Only now, he wasn't so sure.

Lord, was it tempting. Taunting.

Consuming.

Could she handle it? Would she? Or would she end up hating him at the end? That, he knew he couldn't handle.

Jared swallowed a sigh as he continued to peck at the keys. Three sentences later he stiffened. Because Alex had stiffened. And then she whimpered. The sound ripped into him. The hell with this. He dumped the laptop on the nightstand and then tugged the blanket he'd added to that clingy dress up to her chin, smoothing the honey curls from her temple. It didn't help. She whimpered again. Flinched.

“Alex?”

Her horrified gasp ripped though him as she bolted upright on the bed. He reached out automatically, pulling her close, steadying her. “Hey, it's me.”

She blinked. The confusion cleared. But the anguish lingered. “Jared?”

“Yeah.” He managed a half grin, hoping to ease the
remaining horror at what he was pretty sure she'd been reliving. Karl Weiss's death. “You gonna hit me?”

That worked. “Depends.”

He notched a brow. “On what?”

“On you. You going to deserve it?”

Despite the moment—hell, despite the night—his grin spread. “Depends.”

The horror faded. “That's what I—” She tensed as it slammed back in. “That's it! I remember now. All of it. I know what Karl was trying to tell me. Or at least, the part he managed to get out before that bastard slit his throat.”

“What did he say?”

Something entwined within the pain had him wondering if he really wanted to know. “‘Beware the enemy from within.' Karl was trying to tell me that someone within the agency sold me out. But who? I can list on one hand the number of agents who know about me, and they include you, Aiden and my uncle.” She shoved the blanket to her waist and swung her legs to the opposite side of the bed. “I've got to e-mail Sam. He was right. Someone is after him. And Karl may have known who.”

Someone was gunning for Samuel Hatch and had used Alex to pull it off? Jared grabbed her arm and hauled her back down to the mattress. “Try that again, and this time start from the beginning.”

“Dammit, Jared, I don't have—”

“Please. And you do have time. Hours. While you were sleeping I e-mailed Sam a situation report regarding tonight. I received an automated response. Something's come up at his end. He didn't say what. Just that he'll be out of communications range for the next four hours. You can send an update then.”

She finally sat, turned. He almost wished she hadn't. Alex had been so exhausted earlier, she'd fallen asleep without changing. And now he was staring straight into that V.

Samuel Hatch's niece. Christ, who'd have thought?

“What makes you think Karl wasn't just screwing with you from the grave? Hell, why connect it to Sam at all?”

“Because Sam has enemies.”

Jared nodded. It wasn't exactly an earthshattering disclosure. After all, the man was the director of ARIES. You didn't get to that level and not rack up at least a dozen enemies along the way, whether or not their hatred was deserved. His thoughts must have shown.

She sighed. “I know. It's a normal agent fear.
Protect thy family.
Only, Sam learned firsthand it's not always possible. I'm not saying this is connected to Sam. Just that it's possible. Years ago my uncle had an affair with another agent by the name of Eugenie Williams—Agent Ethan Williams's aunt. It was before Sam married my aunt Rita. Anyway, a couple of years later Eugenie's family was targeted because she got too close to something. Sam never told me what it was. Only that he's always feared his family would be next—and that he's still after the guy who murdered Eugenie's family.”

“That's why you created
Alexander
Morrow.”

She nodded. “I got my first taste of ARIES in grad school. It came at a time when I really needed the distraction. Sam asked me to investigate a physics professor I knew on campus. He was suspected of passing scientific information to someone he had no business sharing it with. Aiden Swift had been assigned to the man, but even Aiden couldn't get close enough to take the professor down. That's when Sam brought me in—mainly because I was already
in.
He warned me up front it could blow up in my face. But he was also desperate. My own dad died in a training accident when I was two. He was a jet jock for the Navy. Maybe because I don't remember much about him, Sam's been more of a father to me than an uncle. I'd have done anything for him.”

“You accepted the job.”

She smiled. “By the time it was over, I was hooked. But when I told Sam I wanted in for the long haul, he freaked.
Refused to consider the idea. So Aiden decided to help and Alexander Morrow was born. By the time I made it through the interview—with my own unsuspecting uncle on the panel—Sam realized I was serious. He caved in, but under one condition. I had to keep the alternate identity. Naturally we've refined it over the years.”

“Naturally.” Jared knew he should say something more, but he was reluctant. Maybe because once he did ask, she'd realize how very badly he wanted to know. He slid his gaze to the laptop and stared at the words he'd typed but couldn't understand, stunned that he could be so unnerved by the most basic question of all.

“Yes, it is.”

He jerked his gaze back to hers.

She nodded. “My name really is Alex. Well, Alexis. Alexis Hatch Warner.” She raised her hand and held it out. “It's been a pleasure getting to know you, Agent Sullivan.”

He met her hand, folding those agile fingers in his as he nodded. “Jared. And trust me, the pleasure's been all mine.”

She smiled softly. “I'm glad.”

He sat there for a moment, enjoying the warmth. The connection. The knowledge. He retrieved his hand reluctantly and stared down at his now empty palm. He needed to think. “You may be right about the mole.” The fact that Karl chose those specific words when he clearly understood they would be his last said a heck of a lot. But not enough.

“So, what now, partner?”

“We tell your uncle. But since we have the time, why don't I finish typing Karl's notes first? See if we can come up with something new to add to what we both already learned tonight.”

She glanced at the laptop. “Mind if I take a look?”

Normally he hated anyone looking over his shoulder while he was spitting out information from his brain, but this was Alex. He leaned forward to snag the corner of the
computer casing, pulling the laptop onto his thighs as they settled side by side against the cramped headboard. “You want me to keep going, or would you rather start from the beginning?”

“Keep going. From what little I saw, the notes appeared to be in chronological order. The first part should be mostly standard scientific housekeeping. Measurements, basic tests and the like. Then the hypotheses. Let's skip to the conclusions.”

He picked up where he left off. She didn't say anything for a few minutes, then, “How
do
you do that?”

He shrugged…and kept typing.

“You have no idea what that says?”

“Nope. It's just a picture in my head. I just focus at the top of the frame and scroll down.”

Several more moments past.

“Okay, I admit it. I'm jealous as hell.”

“Don't be.”

“Oh,
please.
”

He glanced up. “No, really. Trust me, there are
some
things you never want to see again.”

“Name one.”

He grinned, determined to keep it light. “Army-enlistment contracts, bills, Dear John letters.” His grin faded before he could stop it. “Test results, death certificates.”

“Oh.”

Though it wasn't necessary, he jerked his stare to the computer and fused it to the screen as he forced his tiring fingers to pick up the pace.

Another minute passed.

Alex leaned forward. “What the—? No way. No blessed
way.
”

He jerked his gaze to hers. “What's wrong?”

“Scroll back a few pages.”

“How many?”

She shook her head. “I don't know, three or four. To that huge column of numbers.”

He knew exactly what she was referring to. Two and a half pages later, he ceased scrolling.

Confusion furrowed her brows. “This has to be a mistake.”

He shrugged. “Could be, but it's not mine.”

“Are you sure you haven't forgotten—” She killed the rest immediately. He shook his head before the flush finished slamming into her cheeks.

“Don't worry. I know what you meant. To answer your question, no. I can still see the pages clearly. If those numbers are wrong, the error's Karl's, not mine.”

“Did the notes have a picture to go with them? A graph? Maybe even a diagram?”

“Several. Got 'em right here.” He passed the laptop into her hands and reached for the spiral notebook he'd left on the nightstand. “I like to do the diagrams and pictures first. Reproducing them can be tricky.” He shrugged as she flipped the cover open. “Use your imagination. I'm a lousy artist.”

She chuckled as she turned the page. “It's all in the hands, partner. All in the hands.” Another flush stole across her skin. He knew exactly what she was thinking. What she was remembering. Because he was remembering it, too.

Two nights ago. Her hands, on him.

Tonight. Beneath that balcony. His hands. On her.

They exhaled together.

She flipped the page—and cursed. “Oh my God.”

“What?”

“Keep typing.”

He took one look at the sheer terror blazing on her face and performed exactly as ordered. What the hell
was
he writing?

“We're in trouble. Big trouble.”

He kept typing. “Why?”

She kept reading. “That second column of numbers you
typed a page back? Those are radioactive-decay rates for a little-known element called astatine. There's less than one gram of astatine on the planet.”

“Out-of-the-box chemistry?”

She kept her gaze fused to the screen. “In its most incredible form. But in this case we've got a guy named Bruno DeBruzkya tossed into the mix.”

“Hell.”

“You got it.” Her fingers bit into his arm. “Keep typing.”

He did.

She grabbed his right biceps, digging her fingers into the cut that hadn't quite finished healing as she followed up the next page with an even darker curse. It took another page before her fingers loosened their grip. “You can stop for now.”

“You sure?” Her hand might have fallen away, the overwhelming urgency faded from her eyes, but the new light burning within scared the ever-lovin' bejesus out of him.

“Yeah. Karl's just repeating experiments now. Verifying results. Remember that hokey-sounding ancient myth?”

“He who owns the stone owns the world?”

“That's the one. It is ancient, but it's not hokey. That stone—that ruby—is older than our entire planet, than our entire solar system. And all those mysterious deaths that were attributed to the jewel? They're not so mysterious anymore.”

“Alex, what are you saying?”

“According to Karl's hypothesis, the original, uncut crystal was found several hundred years ago smack-dab in the middle of the Hartz forest. In a very large, still steaming crater.”

“A meteorite?”

She nodded. “The crystal was inside it.”

“Crystal? You mean the ruby?”

“It's not a ruby per se. Not given our frame of reference. It's more. The stone is comprised mostly of corundum—
aluminum oxide—and it does contain enough chromium that its color has got to be blood-red.”

He could hear the
but.
“You mentioned a radioactive element called astatine, something about there being less than a gram on the entire planet? Are you saying there's astatine in there, too?”