Who Do You Trust? (13 page)

Six hours later they lay in almost the same position, holding each other close—and the storm broke.

The door burst open without warning; two men in flak jackets rushed in, brandishing guns. “Stay where you are! Federal Police! Put your arms above your heads and don’t make any sudden moves!”

Lissa screamed at her abrupt awakening and shrank against him. But Mitch, who’d been waiting for it to happen, wished only for ten minutes more, another hour, another day. For the time and the courage to make things right with Lissa. To gain her trust before he did what he had to do and risked both their lives to fight for what was right—and to fight for her love.

But time was up. He could only lift his arms above his head, advise Lissa to do the same, and allow the two men with guns to cuff him and take them both in the unmarked dark car to the nation’s capital for questioning.

“W
hat the hell is this, Skydancer? The most bloody juvenile way known to man to impress a reluctant girlfriend?” Nick Anson demanded in open fury. “You want to take her to Tumah-ra with you? What alternate universe are you living in? Our work is more importan
t than your love life. And if you don’t know that, it’s time to get out of the game!”

Mitch didn’t flinch; he’d expected it from the moment Irish and Braveheart burst into their hotel room this morning and “arrested” them both. “Of course I know, sir,” he replied, with all the military formality Anson insisted on whenever he was in the Australian headquarters.
Complete and total professionalism can save lives. Always keep your distance with operatives.
“I didn’t have any choice but to bring her into it.”

“There’s always a choice,” Anson barked. “Don’t be so bloody melodramatic!”

“Someone bugged Lissa’s house, sir. He claimed to be ASIO. He threatened her with losing custody of my sons if she didn’t find proof that I’m a child smuggler and spotter pilot for people smugglers. Then he pulled a gun on her.”

Anson stared at him. “You
know
that?”

“I saw him, sir. I saw the gun. I have one of the bugs here.” He pulled out the plastic bag holding one of the deactivated listening devices from his jacket. “I left the other one working, so he’ll believe Lissa still doubts me. Dust it if you like, but I doubt we’ll get anything.”

“Don’t leave me in the dark, Skydancer,” Anson demanded irritably. “Fill me in.”

With that acerbic demand, Mitch told his superior the whole story, as far as he knew it.

Anson reacted exactly as he had—in utter disbelief. “This has got to be someone’s idea of a joke! Look at this stupid bug—it’s made in Taiwan! And ASIO don’t do smuggling stings. That’s the Feds’ jurisdiction!” His commander looked likely to tear his hair. “This is a script straight out of some rerun of
Dragnet!
”

“I know, sir.” Mitch nodded. “I knew that at the beginning, but Lissa’s a civilian, a mother whose kids have been threatened. She didn’t know who was telling the truth until I told her and downloaded the proof from the DIMA file on the net last night.”

“Did you use a clean source?”

“I picked up the laptop from here as soon as we landed in Canberra, sir, plugged into my cell phone line.”

“Good. At least that’s one thing we don’t need to worry about.” Anson paced the room, and asked him, “You think this is personal, or a hit at us all?”

“I don’t know, sir. Not yet.”

Anson gave Lissa, standing still and silent beside Mitch, a glance of pure male frustration, and Mitch knew he’d be chewed out later for insisting on her being a part of this conference instead of leaving her outside the room. Too b. “And you had to bring her here. You couldn’t have made up something plausible?”

“No, sir. Not until I know what’s going down with this rogue. He made it clear to me that he wants to hurt her. If I want her to stay alive I have to keep her with me. Lissa and I are getting married next week,” he said simply. “Requesting formal permission to hand in my notice when this case ends, sir.”

“Permission denied,” Anson snapped. “You signed a three-year contract and you’ll fulfil your final year.”

Mitch felt his jaw set, hard. “We have three children, sir. My kids need me at home.”

“I don’t need reminding of your children, Skydancer. You wouldn’t have your sons at home—and neither would your fiancée—if I hadn’t found them for you and made all the arrangements for them to be with her.”

He felt Lissa start beside him, but still she remained quiet. She’d been silent from the moment Irish apologized to her for the cuffs as soon as they were inside the safe building.

He was grateful for her instinctive wisdom. Nick Anson, ex-CIA operative, had a perpetual mistrust of “outsiders”—those outside the military—that ran too deep to be mere prejudice alone, but whatever had happened to him, his boss kept it to himself. “I know, sir, and I’ve thanked you over and over for that,” Mitch replied now, “but I still had to stay away from them another five months during the problems in the Java and Arafura Seas. I don’t want to be away from them that long ever again. I’ve risked my neck for national security and regional stability enough times. I won’t do it again, not for any other reason. My sons are emotionally fragile. They’ve been hurt enough by their mother. They need to know I won’t take off without notice, and they need to feel secure that I’ll come home in one piece.”

“Risk is the nature of our beast.”

“For single guys like you, sir, and Flipper and Braveheart and Irish and the other Nighthawks—even Songbird and Heidi love the game. But it’s not for me anymore. I have a wife and family who need me and I won’t leave them alone or at risk.”

Anson’s fair hair glinted in the artificial light of the office. “The contract’s nonnegotiable, McCluskey. Our work’s too important to throw away. I feel confident that when your lady knows the score about what you do, she’ll agree with me.”

Lissa, her gray eyes wide in awe—by what she’d heard, or, like many women, by Anson’s rugged, Nordic god looks, Mitch didn’t know—ventured a smile. “Maybe I will, sir. ‘Skydancer’ has this annoying tendency to want to overprotect me. He doesn’t know what I’m capable of doing on my own.”

He grinned at her and rolled his eyes. “I’ve been learning lately, Lissa. Constantly learning.”

She smiled up at him, with a sweet relief in her eyes, and belatedly he realized he hadn’t smiled at her since last night. “Good,” she teased, looking so dainty, as ethereal in her faerie-like loveliness as ever—yet he knew she could kick his arse into tomorrow without breaking a sweat. “Welcome to the twenty-first century, my gallant —um, ex-squadron leader.”

“Ah, I see your lady has spunk and sass.” Anson gave Lissa his slow, reluctant grin—the smile guaranteed to make Songbird and Heidi, their two female operatives, plus most other women, weak in the knees. “I like her, McCluskey.”

Mitch flicked a glance at Lissa, who was watching his boss in turn. While he could see she wasn’t immune to Anson’s lethal, unconscious charm and lazy, deep New Orleans accent, he could tell it didn’t go beyond a natural inclination to look. There was no flicker of feminine awareness in her eyes. He grinned back at Anson. “So do I, sir.”

Anson waved them out, too absorbed to even notice, let alone worry about Lissa’s reaction to him, too obsessed with saving the world to notice any woman at all—even the gloriously beautiful, sophisticated Songbird, and the equally dedicated-to-the-cause mountaineer operative, Heidi. “Take her to Tumah-ra if you have to. But tell her only what she needs to know, in a soundproof room in this building. Don’t give any names of our operatives.”

“I don’t know their names,” he retorted dryly. “And, sir, I think it’s better if we talk out in plain sight. Our boy will be timing us if he followed us here, checking who owns this place and drawing his own conclusions. Which could rebound on the Nighthawks. If he’s after me, it’s best if the Nighthawks don’t appear in this at all.” He hesitated. “Livewire in bag, sir.”

Anson nodded. “Okay, Skydancer, we’ll do it your way. A thirty-four. Who do you want?”

“Angelo. Just the bag. We’re clean.”

“I know that,” Anson retorted in withering sarcasm.

Of course he knew. The electronic detectors and portable sweeps inside the building here put Australia’s international airports to shame.

The door opened behind them. The interview was over.

“Thirty-four?” Lissa asked softly, in the outer office.

Mitch led her to the front offices, lifted her bag from the security cupboard and lifted his finger to his lips.

She nodded.

They walked out onto the sunshine-soaked grass verge outside the building, leading to a park. “What the hell’s going on, Lissa?” he snapped, his eyes darting side to side, looking for a tail. “Why did those goons drag us out of bed and down here at six in the morning? What did they say to you?”

“They strip searched me, of course—single mother farmers are obviously
so
dangerous to the Australian public! How would I know? What did they say to
you?
” she retorted, continuing the argument they’d started this morning after Irish and Braveheart cuffed them. “After all, it’s not like
I
disappeared anywhere the past twelve years. I don’t fly planes into dangerous places.
I
don’t consort with drug-addicted prostitutes!”

Oh, she was
good.
He felt a crazy urge to laugh. Lissa had missed her calling in life. She could’ve made a fortune as a soapie actress or radio talk-show host. He led her down the streetree-lined park that bordered the Nighthawks’ headquarters near Lake Burley-Griffin, holding her arm as they walked along the winding path beside the manmade lake. “She was not a drug addict when I met her. And you’re on dangerous ground, talking about Matt and Luke’s mother like that,” he growled.

A quick flash of worry came and went in her eyes, seeing his reassuring twinkle. “And what a mother she was! I’m their real mother and you know it. The only good thing she ever did was give birth to them—after that she dumped them on you, kidnapped them and damaged them just to get back at you for not paying for her drugs, or for standing by her in the first place, marrying her when she was having your kids!”

Mitch stopped in his tracks. “Where the hell do you get off talking like that? My relationship with Kerin is none of your damn business!”

“And why don’t the same high-minded principles stop you passing judgment on my relationship with Tim?”

Passers-by were staring, looking away. Hurrying on. Wild ducks quacked, flapped their wings and took off into the bright, clear sky—and a thin dark boy came out of nowhere, snatched Lissa’s handbag from her shoulder and tore off.

“Mitch!” she screamed. “That kid stole my bag. Stop him!” And she bolted after the kid.

Mitch overtook her in seconds, sprinting in the same direction the boy had run. But the kid jumped into an open dark car without plates, looked at him with a big, smirking grin and slammed the door shut. Within seconds it was gone.

Lissa joined him moments later, panting. “I hope I’m getting that bag back. I was fond of it.”

Man, he’d never have thought Lissa would think so damn quickly on her feet or get the deal so fast. “I’ll get you a new one this afternoon, I promise.” Under the pretence of comforting her, he held her close. “Angelo signaled to me that someone’s following us, so I’ll make this quick. We’ll get a bus to the nearest police station and notify them about the bag. We can talk while we’re on the bus—the engine and talk around us should interfere with any signal he sends out. You all right, baby?” he asked aloud, caressing her, kissing her face.

“I want to go to the police,” she hiccupped against his chest. “He’ll sell my bag for drugs!”

“That’s what kids do these days. Welcome to city life, Lissa. This is why I want to bring the kids up in Breckerville.”

“Huh!” she said, recovering in an instant. “What planet are you living on? Armed robbery and assault’s three times higher in country New South Wales towns than in Sydney, and double that statistic again for single mothers like me. I’ve been robbed four times since Tim left. The last time they put me in the hospital. Matt and Luke are probably safer in Bondi Beach than Breckerville.”

“What?”

She shrugged. “Why do you think Tim checks on me so often? Why he’s done repairs around the house so much? You know now it sure wasn’t for sex.”

He felt sick, like he’d been kicked in the guts. His stupidity and selfishness in never coming home never checking to see if Tim had left her alone, so small and vulnerable, made him sick. And all because he thought he loved her too much!

But who did he love more—her, or himself? Love took risks, and all he’d done was protect himself. Damn his cowardice! Maybe Lissa was right in what she’d said last night in the plane. Maybe he’d never cared enough, never loved her enough. He should have come home, stopped worrying about
his
feelings and taken care of her. Then she’d never have had to live alone for the past six years. She’d never have been burgled or injured. And maybe, just maybe, she’d have some faith in him right now. “When? Who did it? How badly were you hurt?”

“I had a broken nose, a few strained ribs. Nothing life changing. But I don’t own a VCR or computer anymore—it’s too much of an open invitation. He was a local brat on ecstasy—he’s long gone, disappeared to Sydney, probably dead or on the Wall,” she said tersely, referring to Sydney’s notorious area for boy prostitutes. “Tim got us a security system. Tim’s partner, Ron, built me a pull-out cupboard for the microwave and coffeemaker, to hide them.” She shrugged again, like it was no big deal. “I got out of hospital about two months before you called me about the boys.” She grinned. “Now you know why the family takes those kickboxing lessons you hate. I wanted the local punks to know we’re not such an easy target anymore.”

He lifted her face, the awed glow in his eyes serious. “Baby, I’m so proud of you. For your strength. For your optimism. For your courage, after all you’ve been through. I just wish I’d been there for you. But from now on you’re not alone—and if you give me a second chance with you, you never will be again.”

The shutters came down. “Mitch, I don’t—” Her eyes darted sideways, then back to him. “Kiss me, Mitch. I’m not as brave as you think I am….” When her lips met his, she murmured into his mouth, “He’s there. At the other end of the park. See him?”

He maneuvered her around under the guise of tender kisses. “Uh-huh. He can’t have any long-distance equipment or he wouldn’t bother to show himself. My guess is he’s trying to intimidate us. Let’s find that bus.”

They stalked to the main road, holding hands, and he didn’t have to tell her not to look back. They climbed on the first bus they saw, Lissa wailing that she didn’t
like
this park anymore.