phone—not secure, but unlikely to be tapped.”
“Good. What have you found out?”
Cole could picture his friend and mentor sitting at his desk in his office in Washington, D.C.
Not the Pentagon, though their elite counterterrorist detachment had evolved as a Special Forces Unit that incorporated agents from all military branches. It was smaller, sleeker and more secretive than the elusive Delta Force, with the mission of infiltrating terrorist groups to terminate them. Despite being military, its members were constantly so far undercover that they seldom wore uniforms.
They called their group, simply, the Unit.
Forbes had insisted on a small, inconspicuous rented office for the Unit along E Street, between the areas that housed the FBI and the White House. “The better to keep us humble and alert,” Forbes had said when he had first shown it to Cole.
“I haven’t found out much yet,” Cole replied now to his boss’s question. “I’m still getting the layout of the place. The inn is fairly small. I’ll need to hack into the computer to get information about the guests, but I suspect it’s all a cover, anyway.”
“How many are there?” Forbes’s voice was gruff and in-your-face, as always. Cole’s silver-haired mentor was nearing retirement age, though he was likely to be hauled from the Unit screaming and kicking—using the most injurious of self-defense maneuvers. As old as he was, he would do damage to guys much younger. Forbes was a large man—nobody’s fool, nobody’s wimp.
“Sixteen, I think,” Cole said. “At least, that’s how many appeared for dinner last night.”
“And was it a good meal?” Forbes asked sarcastically.
“The best.” The food had been great. It had been cooked by Alexa. Her graceful, slender hands had prepared it and served it. Hands he recalled touching him, once upon a time, so erotically—
He shifted and leaned against the wall.
“You still there?” Forbes demanded.
“Sure.” Cole forcibly refocused his thoughts. “I talked to a few, and most spoke excellent English. I happened to sit at a table with a couple of exceptions. They claimed to be from Bolivia.”
“Bolivia?” Forbes snorted.
“More like Libya. Anyway, their training is well under way. I didn’t see anyone using utensils in anything other than the good old U.S.A. method of both cutting food and eating with the right hand. I joined the group for television afterward, and some even knew the language well enough to guess at game show answers.”
He had also seen Alexa at the door, and had lived dangerously. Tempted fate, and her memory.
From the corner of his eye, he had seen her grow pale when he had answered a question about a tree. Did she remember Cole Rappaport’s knowledge about trees? Did she somehow associate John O’Rourke, home improvements salesman extraordinaire, with the man she had helped to kill?
“Damn.” Forbes’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “If those suspects are doing that well, it means they’re nearly ready.”
“Could be. You got anything for me? Has anyone else reported finding other locations yet?”
“Not yet. You’re on your own. It all depends on you.”
“How can that be?” Cole demanded. “After last time, we know there has to be a host of agents ready to go underground.”
“Maybe they changed tactics,” Forbes said. “Numbers got them nowhere, after all.”
“But the intelligence I learned in the field—”
“Never mind what’s going on elsewhere,” Forbes insisted. “I’ll handle that. You just figure out what’s happening there, hear?”
“Yes, I hear you. What about backup? Are you sending anyone here from the Unit to follow this crowd when they disperse? I already told Maygran and Bradford to expect your call.”
Colonel Jessie Bradford and Major Allen Maygran were a couple of Cole’s most trusted co-agents in the Special Forces Unit. They were among the very few who knew who he really was, for Cole used yet another alias within the Unit. Both had only recently joined other special operations military units. Vane would not know them.
“I’ve told you before to let me handle the details.” Forbes did not sound pleased, although he seldom did. “But, yes, I’m working on getting together an inconspicuous crew to join you there soon.”
“Good.” Cole drew in his breath suddenly, as a familiar figure walked into the convenience store: Minos Flaherty. The squat, muscular thug had not been at the inn last night, and Cole hadn’t been in a position to figure out where he may have gone. He had half hoped that the guy had disappeared for good—but only if he had taken a long dive over a short Skytop cliff. If he had simply disappeared, as all the guests were expected to do soon, it could mean that the operation was commencing before Cole was ready to deal with it.
“Hey, you there? Er, John?” Forbes stumbled over Cole’s name on this assignment.
“I’m here.” Cole kept his voice low. “I’ve got to leave, though.”
“Someone there?” Forbes’s tone was urgent.
“Yes. I’ll be in touch.”
“Do that. And watch your butt.” Cole heard a click on the other end.
His butt? Oh, yes. Cole had every intention of protecting that and every other part of his body.
Alexa’s lovely face loomed suddenly in his mind, and he shut it out.
But for an aching moment, he realized that the most vulnerable part of him could still be his damn, foolish heart.
ALEXA OPENED THE DOOR from the kitchen to the inn’s backyard—and the ground-floor vista overlooking the gorgeous blue splendor of Skytop Lake. At the shore, a long dock extended into the water. The inn’s motorboat was tied alongside.
Around the lake, evergreen trees rose in thick glades covering the sides of the surrounding mountain ridges. Many trees were ponderosa pines. Cole had taught her that, on their wonderful, fateful weekend here. The last time they had been together….
She inhaled deeply. The heated air was so damp that she nearly had to take a sip of it.
“Come on, Phantom,” she called behind her. The lanky German shepherd pup sped by her and out the door. He ran to the side of the house, out of her field of vision. “Wait!” she called. Phantom didn’t return but started to bark.
The noise seemed magnified near the water, which also carried sounds of motorboats in the distance. Alexa ran along the top of the down-sloped lawn to the area where the noisy pup had disappeared. And stopped.
Phantom was barking because there was an intruder. No, not an intruder—a guest.
John was on the lawn beside the inn. He had stooped, and his hand was out toward Phantom, who hadn’t yet stopped barking, though he had
