shrugged. “Can’t risk calling everyone around. They’ll just have to worry for a couple of days.”
She didn’t like it but she understood. “This is serious, isn’t it?”
He looked at her for a long moment, probably searching for something reassuring he could tell her. His face was somber as he spoke a single word. “Very.”
“I appreciate your honesty.” She hated the catch in her voice that made her sound like a frightened schoolgirl. Of course, she was frightened. But he probably saw a lot of that in his type of business, had guarded more than his share of frantic women. She would have to try her best not to become one.
“You don’t have to worry. You’re safe with me,” he said.
Her gaze slid over his wide shoulders, the biceps that stretched his black shirt on his arms. He was physically fit, no doubt about that. But even if she didn’t have an armed terrorist after her, feeling safe or even remotely comfortable with Alex in the same room would have been impossible.
ALEX SURVEYED THE ROOM for anything he might have missed on the first run. Rectangular, about twenty feet by thirty, it ran the entire length of the house. The living room and kitchen together, nicely fixed up as far as safe houses went. Two windows looked north in the front, one south by the back entry. He opened the first of two closed doors on the east wall and found a hall closet stocked with clothes and other essentials. Excellent. The other door revealed a steep row of rickety stairs to the basement.
He signaled to Nicola to stay where she was, then walked to the landing and turned, only to find the basement walled off. Looked like the job had been done decades ago. He kicked the stones at a couple of places. Solid. No surprises would be coming from there.
He went back up and walked around the room to check out a door under the staircase that led upstairs. A small bathroom with a shower, simple and clean. Packages of toothpaste and toothbrushes along with a few disposable razors occupied the medicine cabinet. A monster of a first-aid kit was tucked under the vanity next to a couple of old Playboy magazines. He grinned. Some things never changed. He closed the door and walked back into the living room.
“Now what?” Nicola wrinkled her brows as she turned from the window. The Kevlar hid her curves, leaving only her phenomenal legs for him to admire. They were enough. He could have spent days on those legs alone. Weeks.
The woman was plenty enough to get under his skin and keep him tantalized. He definitely didn’t need the magazines under the sink. Best thing for him to do was to drag his mind from that entire direction. He swallowed. “Now I check out the rest of the house.”
He ran up the stairs, forcing his thoughts to the work at hand. A steel reinforced door—dead bolt on both sides—closed off the upper floor. Whoever renovated the old farmhouse hadn’t bothered with anything beyond that. He scanned one room after the other in quick succession. Not much to look at. The windows were good and locked, but everything else had fallen into disrepair. Drywall full of holes and a leaky roof, no sight of furniture, a gutted bathroom—not a pretty picture. He locked the steel door behind him as he walked back down.
“So?” Nicola was checking out the security system next to the door.
“It’s tight.”
She nodded, and her silky dark curls slid into her face. She pushed them from her jewel-green eyes. “Are you going to check outside?”
“Not until it gets dark.” He clipped his phone off his belt and opened a blank e-mail. “My turn.”
“For what?”
“Questions. I want you to give me the name of everyone you came in contact with in China, and as much information about them as you can remember.”
“That would take hours.”
“Start in order of importance.”
She rubbed her temple. “Meng Mei, my best friend. We went to the same school. I lost touch with her after coming back to the States. I don’t see what this could possibly have to do with—”
“Keep going.” He typed the information into the phone.
“Most of the people I came in contact with worked at the embassy. They went through extensive security clearance, I’m sure. The cooks, the maids, the gardener, the people who staffed the consulate and handled the visa applications.” She rattled off a number of names and he took them down.
“Anyone else?”
She named a few of her Chinese classmates at the English language school.
“How about the people your parents came in contact with?”
“Other than the embassy staff, I wouldn’t know. I know my father met with a number of Chinese officials, but he didn’t talk much about work at home.”
“That’s fine.” The Colonel had probably talked about that with the senator already. “How about your Chinese acquaintances in this country?”
“About twenty clients currently, but I don’t want anyone to contact them.” She fixed him with a stern look. “You said you already checked them out.”
Her generous lips looked even more tempting when she pursed them like that. “That was before the attack. This is a whole new ball game. They’re about to be checked out again.” Right down to their great-grandfathers if he had to.
She started to list some names, and he asked as many questions as he could think of, maybe even dragged it out a little. The role felt comfortable, what he was used to. He didn’t know what to do after he was done, how to make small talk. It had been years since he’d had to spend more than a night with any one woman, his job not exactly conducive to long-term relationships.
Not that spending a night with Nicola Barrington wasn’t more appealing than most anything he could think of. He had spent the past two months memorizing all the spots on her body he would have liked to touch. Seemed harmless at the time, considering they were unlikely to meet. And for damn sure he’d been due some entertainment. Trouble was when night did come, they wouldn’t be spending it together in the traditional sense. She would be spending it on the pullout couch while he took brief naps sitting by the window. He didn’t expect it to be a particularly satisfying experience.
And the chances of him being able to touch Nicola Barrington under any circumstances were nonexistent. After the next few days, their paths would never cross again. He had no right to be fantasizing about her. Then again, why the hell not? What else did he have?
Nothing. He didn’t even exist. Not like other people. He no longer had a social security number, no service record, no contacts beyond his immediate supervisor and occasional teammates. He didn’t even have a pair of damned dog tags. Nothing that could identify him. He was part of a shadow created by the U.S. government to deal with problems that could not be handled in open daylight. And when the shadow fell on the people who created those problems, they disappeared.
That was what he was trained for, what he was good at. Not trying to act normal, playing house with a senator’s daughter. He sent off the e-mail to Sylvia, Colonel Wilson’s secretary, and watched as Nicola rummaged through the refrigerator. Bet she never had to eat food cooked over a camel dung campfire, or breakfast on coconut grubs in the jungle. Had he ever had a normal life? If he had, he
