into Marissa’s path. Her cheeks took on a hint of heightened color, and her blue eyes widened and darkened: but the momentary lapse was her only betrayal of surprise—or anything else.
No matter how many times they met, he was never prepared for her reaction to him. As if she were suppressing strong emotions she didn’t want him to read—or couldn’t acknowledge. Whenever he’d tried to find out what was going on below the surface of those beautiful blue eyes, they had iced over. The rebuffs had hurt his ego. He’d vowed never to let it happen again.
“Jed. How nice to see you. Are you here on behalf of the Global Bank?”
Smooth, he thought. As if they were nothing more than friendly colleagues who traveled in the same business circles.
“Yes,” he replied, matching her coolness.
They studied each other carefully.
What was she planning for the evening, he wondered. Did she already know he’d be prowling the same turf? Or was she as unpleasantly surprised as he had been? Only one of them was going to leave the capital city with the evidence he’d come to steal. He was going to make damn sure of that.
“You’re a long way from Baltimore,” he remarked.
She hesitated before replying. “Yes.”
“So what brings you to San Marcos?”
“Oh, you know. My usual. I’m scouting out off-the-beaten-track vacation locations for Adventures in Travel.”
“Latch onto anything exciting?”
“I should be able to set up a jungle trip to some partially excavated Mayan ruins. And there are excellent snorkeling and diving opportunities along the coral reef. I think I can guide visitors to a stingray feeding location.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“Not when you know what you’re doing.”
“Be careful.”
“Oh, I will.”
“I didn’t realize you knew Miguel Sanchez.”
“I don’t. Ted Bailey at the embassy was kind enough to get me on the guest list.”
“Then you’re on assignment for the State Department?”
“No.”
It was a good bet she was lying. He knew she often mixed undercover work for Victor Kirkland at State with travel agency research. He was about to probe a little further when one of the uniformed staff approached them.
“Señorita Devereaux?”
“Sí.”
“Teléfono para usted.”
She gave Jed an apologetic look. “I’ll see you later.”
“Expecting an important call?”
For a split second she looked as if she weren’t sure how to reply. Then she shrugged and followed the man who had delivered the message.
As Jed watched the servant lead her toward a back hall, he wondered if there was some way he could listen in on the phone conversation.
He’d memorized the floor plan of the house. There was another access to the hall, from a door off the enclosed patio.
As if he had nothing more important to do than get a breath of fresh air, he wandered casually toward the French doors.
When he stepped onto the stone terrace, the tropical night, rich with the scent of flowers, enveloped him. It took several moments for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. As they did, he went very still. Marissa had come out the side door he’d been heading for and was walking rapidly toward the far wing of the house where the office complex was located. The office complex that was strictly off-limits to everyone except Sanchez and his handpicked staff. Jed had heard stories of summary executions of suspected spies caught there.
Didn’t Marissa know the risk she was taking? For that matter, didn’t she know there was a guard? Jed’s gaze probed the darkness.
There was supposed to be a guard. He didn’t seem to be in sight. Had Marissa taken care of him? Jed cursed under his breath. This was just the kind of audacious maneuver she was so good at pulling off.
He was about to follow her; then, before he could, he saw a figure ooze out of the shadows like a night creature crawling out from under a rock. Without making a sound, the man padded after her.
The hair on the back of Jed’s neck stood on end as if a cold breeze had blown across the patio. Marissa was in deep banana oil. Unless he could stop her before she reached the office wing.
* * *
ABOVE THE SOUND of the mariachi band playing at the party, Marissa thought she heard a voice nearby. Her whole body went rigid while she waited for a large hand to clamp down on her shoulder. When the blow didn’t fall, she sprinted the rest of the way to the office wing. The heavy door was unlocked. That had been part of the deal. Jerking it open, she threw herself inside and stood with her shoulders pressed against the carved mahogany.
The door at her back gave her only a partial feeling of security. Now that she was here, she wished she’d come up with some other plan to get the information Victor wanted. Even for her, this was taking a hefty chance.
But it should work out all right.
She’d paid enough bribes to supplement the San Marcos military budget for six months.
Still, as she struggled to bring her breathing into normal range she peered down the hallway searching for signs of life. The place was as silent as a tomb. The only illumination came from a pair of ornate sconces that looked as if they held fifteen-watt bulbs. Since the electricity in San Marcos was likely to be off for half of any twenty-four-hour period, the low wattage made sense. Probably Sanchez was using his own generating plant and needed the bulk of his power supply tonight for the party.
Her high heels sounded like a flamenco dancer as she started down the polished tile passageway. Slipping off her pumps, she looked nervously over her shoulder, half expecting to see Jed Prentiss behind her striding down the hall to catch up. If anyone bollixed up things tonight, it would be him!
All she’d needed a half hour ago, as she was psyching herself for this raid, was to glance up and discover him stalking his way toward her like a jaguar about to pounce on a tethered goat.
Her hands clamped down so tightly on her evening bag that her fingernails dug into the expensive fabric. When she realized what she was doing, she loosened her grip. She’d come here to do a job. And she would finish it and reappear at the party before anyone noticed she was missing.
As she began to tiptoe down the hall again, shoes in hand, she cursed herself for not knowing more about Jed’s recent activities. Then again, she hadn’t had time to brush up on every agent who’d worked in Latin America before she’d come to San Marcos. She’d better stop obsessing about him before she made some kind of fatal mistake.
With a quick glance at her watch, she
