Who Do You Trust? (9 page)

“Mmmm…” She kissed him again. “Two blankets, darling, just in case anyone comes and sees us.” Another soft, melting kiss, her eyes flashing. “He’s not far away. He’ll probably watch us. We’ll have to make it look real—but it damn well better not be until I have answers,” she whispered fiercely into his mouth. “Don’t take long,” she moaned aloudan’t wait…”

And he’d thought her predictable? Sheesh. She could win an Academy Award for this performance. But while the Nighthawk in him cheered her on, the man wanted more.

The next kiss he gave her was deep and hot and
real.
Grinding against her, getting even hotter when she pressed back, kissed him back with a passion she couldn’t possibly be faking. “Is this exciting you as much as me?” he growled in her ear.

She grinned up at him. “Probably more,” she whispered, “since I reckon you’re probably used to it. I haven’t had this much fun since I always beat you and Tim and Sally Jones at Spy versus Spy. Oh, Mitch! Now!” she cried aloud.

The memory hit him. How had he forgotten? Lissa always found the treasures buried on school orienteering games, always knew who murdered who, and where, whenever they played Cluedo, and always topped them at Spy versus Spy. Her nickname at school had been Nancy Drew. She’d been so known for her love of intrigue-type stuff she’d been voted “girl most likely to join the FBI.”

So make use of it now, if only this once—then get her right out of it.

“I’ll get the blankets.” In her ear, “You’d better control this if you want it to stay fake, because I’m way past that.”

She lifted a brow. “I like that idea,” she purred, loud enough for the bug to pick up, low enough to sound saturated with sex. “Being on top. Hmm.”
Try it and you’re dead,
she mouthed.

He laughed and nuzzled her neck. “You’re driving me nuts, Miller, you know that?”

Both brows lifted this time. The look in her eyes was pure, undiluted satisfaction. “Get the blankets.”
Bug is in the hallway beside the linen cupboard.

So she’d conducted her own search, but was smart enough to know not to destroy any of them. Good Lord, she was treating this dangerous situation like their old games…and it was working. Did he know her at all? He’d underestimated her in more ways than one. Even her clumsy attempts to look through his things now held a chilling new meaning. Dear God, she’d been all but dropping written signs for him to pick up, and he’d missed every sign.

“Go get the blankets,” she purred again, her eyes telling him something else…but what?

He nodded and ran for the blankets, and had an inspiration.

After a lightning check of the house, he returned to find her with two pieces of underwear in her hand, hers and his.
Props,
she mouthed.

He shook his head with an amused grin. He’d never have thought of that. He wouldn’t have wanted to. But she was right. Their first time—and it would happen soon—wasn’t going to be where someone could listen in on them or see them.

She took his hand and led him out into the warm, dreaming sunshine. “Where?” she whispered.

Aloud he said, “Not the water hole, baby. Too many creepy-crawlies…. Behind the pool,” he murmured for her alone. “The steel fence and the filter will hy interfere with any portable listening device he aims out here.”

She nodded, kissed his palm and wrist, and walked toward the pool. Taking one of the blankets, she frowned. “Thermal blanket?”

“Privacy, baby. Can’t have neighbors watching us.” He pulled the foil-covered blanket over the pool fence as far as it would stretch. Then he crouched down behind it, lying on the blankets with her face-to-face. “Interference. It won’t last long before he gets around it, so talk fast. And we’ll have to undress while we’re at it and make the right noises.”

“Of course. I’m not stupid.” She covered them both with the thin cotton sheet he’d brought out and pulled her shirt off. “Did you leave the Air Force two years ago?”

“Yes.” He threw his T-shirt over his head and sent it sailing across the yard.

“Oh, Mitch, darling…” She wriggled against him, driving him crazy. Then her shorts flew across the grass. “What were you doing in East Timor, then? Were you ever there at all?”

“I was there briefly. Training some of the younger guys on stealth work. After that, I was sent to Tumah-ra, an island northwest of Darwin. Oh, baby,” he moaned aloud, losing his shorts, and most of his self-control with it.

She wriggled away from him, her eyes warning him not to try it. “I know where Tumah-ra is. I saw a piece last week about the hidden war there, the world’s reluctance to get involved until—” She gasped. “You took the footage. The baby at the mass grave.”

He nodded, struggling to hold back. “That’s part of my job.”

Between soft sighs and moans she whispered, “Who do you work for? And is that where you’ve been when you disappeared on your ‘courier’ runs? To see her? Or was it to do more spy stuff?”

“I can’t tell you without clearance.” He groaned again and mouthed,
I heard a car door shut.

“Yes, oh, darling—that’s so good! But not good enough, McCluskey,” she whispered. “You want my trust? Well, I want more answers, and I want them now!” Her bra came off. “Make it look real. Put your hands on me.”

“We’d better stop whispering. He might have portable sound surveillance on us.” Oh, man, he was touching her naked breasts, her nipples flush against his chest, tight and hard, exciting him almost beyond thought. He caressed her until he thought he’d go insane, landed a gentle kiss on one taut peak, then reared back before she slugged him.
Who is this guy? What did he say to you?
he mouthed.

“Baby, oh, baby, I want you now!” She flipped her spare undies onto the grass.
Don’t even think about doing that again!
But her eyes, silver and burning hot, belied her threat.
He was from ASIO. He showed me ID. He said you stole that little girl—that you’ve been smuggling children into Australia and selling them to rich adoptive parents. He also said you’re a spotter pilot for people smugglers from the Middle East, watching for the Coast Patrol and warning them.

Holy-moly. Someone was out to get , and get him good. If this story leaked, it would not only destroy his career and put him in a cell, it would blow the Nighthawks apart. But—

This is all wrong, Lissa. People smuggling isn’t within ASIO jurisdiction. It belongs to DIMA—the Department of Immigration—Customs and the Federal Police.

His spare undies went the way of Lissa’s. “I can’t wait any more, Lissa. I need you!”

If only she knew how true that was. He needed her on this. He needed her to believe him. He needed to make love to her so bad the pain was exquisite…and he had to know she wanted it as much.

Her startled eyes told him he’d scored a hell of a point with her, telling her about DIMA.
Can you prove that?

He pulled the foil blanket on top of them, hoping like hell it would give interference for thirty seconds. “Let me get a clean computer and Net access and I’ll prove it in seconds,” he whispered, barely making a sound. “This guy doesn’t work for ASIO any more than I do. His bugs are cheap electronic-store stuff. If he was ASIO—or had official clearance to watch me—he wouldn’t need bugs or cameras. Satellites do most of the surveillance work these days, and good bugs are the size of pinheads. This guy’s a rogue, working alone—and until I know what he’s after we have to keep up the act. Only for a day or two.”

She wriggled against him and moaned, “Oh, oh, oh! But—”

“Seduction and bugging and threatening innocent people went out with the Berlin Wall. If ASIO or the Feds suspected me of people smuggling they wouldn’t have involved you, an innocent bystander. They’d track my plane and check my mileage and radio contacts against my log-books for discrepancies. A real ASIO officer or Fed can do that with a computer and satellite in hours, and I’d already be hauled in somewhere for questioning.”

She threw off the blanket and rolled beneath him, taking him with her; then she cried out as though he’d just entered her. “Mitch!”
Who do you work for?

“Lissa, oh, Lissa.” He was dying by delicious, agonizing degrees, so close he could feel her sweet wetness through her underwear, and knew she wanted him as much as he was aching for her. So far away, because if he blew it now and lost her trust, he’d never have it again.
Come with me to Canberra this afternoon. If I get clearance I’ll tell you everything.

She nodded and pulled him down for a sweet, unexpected kiss.
Thank you, Mitch. Let’s finish this farce.
She softly kissed him again, then cried out his name, shuddering.

He groaned and jerked on her as though he’d just finished—and she’d never know how damn close he was to the real thing. “He’ll probably bug your things,” he whispered in her ear. “Let him do it. Let him think you’re with him still. I can’t bear to leave you,” he groaned aloud. “Come with me to Canberra. We’ll have a few days to ourselves.”
Don’t leave my sight until we go. We’ll play devoted lovers if he follows us. We’ll have to share a room.

“I’ll call Tim to get the kids,” she said softly, searching his
He threatened to take Matt and Luke away, give Kerin’s family custody, unless I cooperate with him.

Damn it—no wonder she’d turned so frigid on him. The one way guaranteed to make Lissa obey any order, believe any lie, get information from him and betray him. She adored his kids, and their bastard voyeur had used that. Any last lingering traces of anger against her melted. She’d been trying to save Matt and Luke from the years of misery he’d endured as an unwanted kid, until he came here. He felt humbled she’d given him a chance at all, let alone trying to tell him almost from the start. She must still care about him to do that—she had to have forgiven him, too, just a little, to risk it all and tell him.

Maybe, when all this was over, he had a chance to make this whole farce a reality.

But now wasn’t the time to talk; it would blow everything. “I need to go by tonight. Call Tim and tell him we’ll drop the kids at Bankstown Airport by six,” he said aloud, then whispered, “When we get there, take Tim somewhere safe without any bags or purses. Tell him what’s going down and get the kids away from Sydney, Breckerville or anywhere else this guy knows you’ve taken them. Mmm…I wish we had more time now,” he groaned aloud.

“I can hardly wait until tonight. I want to make love again.” Then she suddenly wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him tight. “I’m scared, Mitch,” she breathed in his ear.

“Me, too, baby. Me, too.” He wanted to reassure her, to tell her he could fix all this, but he’d had it with lies and half-truths. He was sick of the whole crappy sham life he led for his job. Now he’d come full circle: it wasn’t just him, but Lissa, even Matt and Luke, who would also pay the price for the cheap adrenaline rushes he’d had every time he was sent on a mission. Lissa’s life had fallen apart because he’d had the appalling arrogance to think he could save the world, that he could make other people’s lives better because his own was a nightmare.

He knew better now, because he had more to fight for. He couldn’t save the world. All he could try for was to save his own small corner of it—the woman he loved, the kids he adored. This was his real fight. To keep his family safe.

To make Lissa trust him again. To make her want him again. To have her want him to come home for good. To be his woman forever.

Lissa wrapped the thin white sheet around her near-naked body and got to her feet. “I’ll call Tim.”

“Will he come?” He tried to hide it, but the strangled note came through in his voice, seeing the silhouette of bare honey skin he’d just touched and kissed and lain on, without the fulfillment he craved like a pulse-pounding addiction.

She smiled, that gorgeous mouth curving in haunting knowledge and feminine arrogance: a woman coming alive from self-imposed sexual exile. She might be scared—he didn’t doubt it—but she was also reveling in every second of this, especially knowing she’d made him suffer with their blanket charade. “He owes me. He’ll come.”

A shaft of pain lanced through him as he wondered just why Tim owed her and what for, but he knew better than to ask. “Good.”

Her eyes flared for a’d managed to surprise her with his restraint, and he grinned. Oh, he was gonna love every second of this. After waiting half his life, finally the battle was on. Mitch and Lissa, locked in the unspoken glory of sexual war between man and woman. Take no prisoners. All or nothing.

She walked toward the house, leaving her clothes behind on the grass. Her hips swayed beneath the near-transparent sheet. As fresh and natural as a frolicking breeze in sunshine, as mysterious as deep night. A woman in every sense—and his body throbbed with promises unfulfilled.

Then he turned to pick up their clothes and saw the man watching from the other side of Old Man Taggart’s land. The sun glinted off the binoculars gently swinging around his neck, as if they’d just fallen there—and on the cold dark barrel of the gun following Lissa’s progress into the house.

Point made.

The man in gray chuckled as he drove off, leaving a half-naked, furious McCluskey panting behind him.

No license plates for the gallant squadron leader to trace. The car make, model and color one of the usual choices of impoverished farmers’ teenagers, common around here in the grassy fields, dumped and torched by night.

He’d created a role his replacement could slip into with no difficulty at all. A generic white shirt, gray suit and dark glasses, frightening in their quiet anonymity. A standard-issue gun common among law enforcement officers across Australia.

Pointed at McCluskey’s woman.

He liked the idea of scaring McCluskey…and his woman. Fear tended to make little country-mice women like Lissa Carroll do
anything
to end the terror. Begging. Panting. On her knees.