forget, Adam. You aren’t my commanding officer anymore. You can’t stop me from doing this.”
“That’s true.” His gaze focused on her lips and suddenly the thought of the kiss they had shared filled her mind.
Without her volition she licked her lips, her mouth unaccountably dry. “I intend to do this, Adam, with or without your help. Either you are with me or you are against me.”
He took a step back from her and raked a hand through his short hair in obvious frustration. “You know I can’t walk out and leave you alone in this place.”
She nodded, a sense of relief flooding through her. “Then you’re with me.”
“You’ve given me very little choice,” his voice was rich with irritation. “I’m with you on one condition,” he said. His gaze didn’t quite meet hers. “You promise me you won’t wear that outfit again. I don’t want to have to battle the wise guys in this place for your honor.”
“And you would do that? Fight for my honor?” she teased.
“Of course I would,” he replied instantly. “It’s my job to protect and serve the king and his family.”
Isabel wasn’t sure why, but his answer disappointed her. He never forgot his position as a commanding officer in the Royal Edenbourg Navy. Just once, she wished he would forget their respective positions, forget duty and responsibility and meet her simply as a man meeting a woman.
“Did you get some background information from Ben?” he asked.
She nodded and reached for her duffel bag. Clothing spilled out onto the bed as she dug in the bottom for the papers that contained material they would need in their attempt to connect with Shane Moore’s associates.
She pulled out the papers, stuffed the clothes back into the bag, and then patted the space next to her for Adam to sit. He eased down next to her, bringing with him a scent of minty soap and spicy cologne. She held the papers out before her and he leaned into her to read them with her.
“This is the list of the names of people we now know were associates of Shane’s,” she said, trying to focus on the business at hand and ignore how warm his thigh was against hers despite the barrier of his jeans.
“We already made contact with Willie Tammerick. Here’s the information Ben was able to pull up on him.” She shuffled the papers, her fingers becoming all thumbs as Adam leaned even closer, his shoulder rubbing hers.
“No surprises there,” he murmured. “The man has a history of arrests for drunk and disorderly, public nuisance and disturbing the peace.”
His breath was warm on the side of her face and again she found herself remembering their kiss. His mouth had been so hot and had tasted of a hunger that had momentarily stolen her breath away.
No kiss in her entire life had affected her like Adam’s, torching her deep in the pit of her stomach, touching her in a primal place that had never been touched before by any man.
“Isabel.” The single word held a touch of exasperation and she realized he’d been talking to her, but she’d not been listening.
“I’m sorry, I got distracted. What did you say?”
“I said I can’t imagine Shane Moore confiding anything important to Willie. Shane was too smart to confide in a drunk.”
Isabel nodded. “I think you’re probably right. I talked to Willie for a while before you came in tonight and tried to pump him for information, but I don’t think he has any idea what Shane was involved in.”
Ben Lockhart had done an excellent job in pulling together background material on most of the people on the list from Meagan Moore. Not only had he detailed their rap sheets, but also when possible, he’d obtained a photograph.
For the next two hours, Adam and Isabel pored over the information. Adam pointed to one of the pictures Ben had provided of a burly man with tattoos.
“Blake Hariman,” Isabel said, reading the name beneath the photo. “Nice guy. His arrests include armed robbery, possession of a deadly weapon and aggravated assault.”
“And according to Ben’s information, he was one of Shane’s closest friends.” Adam gazed at her intently. “Isabel, we’re playing a dangerous game with dangerous people here. If any one of them get the faintest hint that we aren’t what they think, what we’re pretending, then we could wind up dead.” His expression was somber, his eyes deep pools of gray mist.
“I know,” she agreed. “But, there’s no reason for anyone to suspect us of being anything other than Bella and Adam Wilcox. I told Bart, the bartender, that you’re looking for work and he said he might be able to set you up doing odd jobs around here. I think we’re pretty solid in our disguise, Adam.”
For the first time since they’d entered the room, Adam smiled. Isabel felt the power of his smile right down to her toes. Adam was an attractive man when he was somber, but when he smiled, he was absolutely devastating.
“We sure don’t have to worry about anyone recognizing you. I’ve never known a bottle of rinse and some makeup to make such a difference. I watched you for several minutes before I finally realized that you were you.”
“You were watching me?” Isabel eyed him curiously, a sweeping warmth shooting through her. Had he been watching her because he’d thought she looked good?
His smile fell from his features, and was replaced by a frown. “I was watching everyone,” he replied. He got up from the bed and looked at his watch. “It’s after midnight. Shouldn’t we call it a night?”
Isabel nodded and quickly gathered up the papers and shoved them back into her duffel bag. She stood and was suddenly struck by just what “call it a night” would entail.
She and Adam were pretending to be man and wife. They would spend the night in this room together. Tonight, and every night for as long as they played this game, they would sleep side by side in the bed that suddenly looked far too small.
Chapter Three
“T raitor!” The crowd of people shouted, their fists raised in rage. “You’re a traitor to the crown!” The mood was wicked…dangerous and several of the people picked up rocks and threw them at the man before them.
The man, resplendent in a naval uniform with ribbons and medals decorating his chest, didn’t flinch, didn’t attempt to escape the crowd’s wrath.
Adam watched in horror as his father was stoned. Then suddenly the scene changed and it was Adam being stoned. The rocks of various sizes and shapes thudded painfully into his body as the crowd feverishly chanted.
“Traitor!”
“Traitor!”
There was no hazy transition from sleep to awareness. One minute he was dreaming and the next moment he was wide awake, the horrid nightmare merely a bitter aftertaste in his mouth.
He was instantly aware of aching bones and sore muscles, but knew the soreness wasn’t from a nightmare stoning, but rather from attempting to sleep in the lumpy chair next to the bed.
He
