and rested his palm along the side of her neck, trailing his thumb in soft strokes just beneath her jaw. In spite of the situation, her mind flashed back to those scorching nights they’d spent together in a tangle of bedsheets, making love far into the night. Just the memory made her want to believe everything he was telling her.
No. She had to stay focused. No matter what he said, he was a burglar, and a hell of a good liar. God only knew what he really intended to do with her.
When she jerked her face away from him again, he let out a soft sigh, trailing his hand down her arm before finally pulling it away altogether.
“You’ll be here alone,” Derek told her. “Owens won’t be coming back.”
When her eyes widened, he shook his head. “Take it easy, Alyssa. We don’t kill people. Owens is just being…diverted.”
Diverted? What did that mean? And who the hell was “we”?
Derek rose from the bed and disconnected the phone cord from the wall. He picked up his gun from where he’d tossed it on the bed and stuck it into his jeans, then took a lightweight jacket from his backpack and put it on, pulling it down over the weapon. He grabbed the ski mask and stuffed it into the pocket of the jacket. Slinging the backpack over his shoulder, he turned to Alyssa one last time.
“I should be back within the hour.”
He left the room. Alyssa heard his footsteps as he walked to the elevator and the faint sound of the doors opening and closing.
And then he was gone.
3
DEREK STEPPED OFF the elevator and walked through the parking garage, moving quickly and decisively even as his mind was spinning in a dozen different directions.
When he’d grabbed Alyssa in that closet, for a few seconds he hadn’t been able to move. To think. To believe who he had his arms around. But there was no mistaking that mass of blond hair, those green eyes and that slight, willowy figure he remembered as clearly as if he’d seen her yesterday. He’d known she worked in a building that was identical to this one in Seattle, but he’d never imagined that he’d find her here. He’d asked her what her name was just to ensure that the concept most people believed in—that everybody has a double somewhere—hadn’t come into play.
It hadn’t. It was Alyssa.
And then she’d said his name. Softly. Tentatively. Even after six months, she’d still recognized tiny details she never should have remembered. His ring. His scar.
His voice, for God’s sake.
He’d hated like hell having to manhandle her the way he had, not to mention having to tie her up and leave her there. But he had to make sure Owens got to the airport ASAP, and she clearly hadn’t been in the mood to listen to anything he’d had to say. Until he had the chance to calm her down and find out just how inclined she was to tell the world what she’d overheard, restraining her had been his only option.
He exited the parking garage and walked to the van waiting on the street outside the building. After climbing into the driver’s seat, he tossed his backpack down and shut the door.
Kevin emerged from the back of the van and flopped into the passenger seat. “What the hell was going on up there? I lost communication with you for a few minutes.”
“Somebody was in the apartment. She heard everything.”
“She said your name. She knows who you are.”
“Yes. She’s…” The last thing Derek wanted was to delve into his history with Alyssa. “She’s an acquaintance.”
“Oh, boy. So where is she now?”
“Tied up in the bedroom.”
Kevin stared at him, dumbfounded. “What?”
“I left her tied up in the bedroom.”
“So what are you going to do with her?”
Derek paused. “To tell you the truth, I’m not sure. Once we get Owens on the plane, I’ll come back and deal with her. By that time I’ll have something figured out.”
“And if you let her go and she talks?”
“I’ll make sure she doesn’t.”
“But how—”
“I said I’d handle it.”
Kevin looked at him skeptically, but he’d never been one to overstep his bounds. Finally he simply nodded.
“Did you get in touch with the team?” Derek asked.
“Wilson and McManus say they’ll have no trouble grabbing Owens. But there’s a problem with Lambert.”
“A problem?”
“He’s got the flu. Woke up with it this morning. A hundred and three fever. Can’t stop puking. Says he couldn’t possibly get a plane off the ground.”
Derek just stared at Kevin, unable to believe that not a damned thing was going right with this job. First, the blackmailing problem he’d set out to solve was far bigger than he’d realized. Then he’d had to take a woman hostage to keep her from talking—a woman he never would have considered tying up in bed unless she’d smiled pretty, got naked and asked him to. And now he had a pilot who couldn’t stop hugging the toilet long enough to fly to Washington.
Derek hated this. Hated it. His team’s reputation was built on jobs going off cleanly without a hitch, and now he was on the verge of having to phone Washington and admit he couldn’t pull this one off because he had no pilot.
No. He wasn’t going to do that. Failure was not an option.
Derek started the van.
“Where are you going?” Kevin asked.
“St. Andrews.”
“The church?”
“Yes.”
“Wait a minute. Isn’t that where Gus is getting married tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
Derek wheeled the van away from the curb and hit the gas.
“You’re gonna get him to fly the plane?” Kevin asked.
“That’s right.”
“But he quit the team a year ago.”
“Do you know any other pilot we can get on short notice who can fly a Learjet to Washington and who won’t wonder why he’s transporting a guy in handcuffs and handing him off to federal agents?”
Kevin sighed. “Good point.”
Ten minutes later Derek pulled up in front of St. Andrews. He turned to Kevin. “Get in the
