Covert Attraction (11 page)

He nodded. “Of course. And it should be okay for you to continue to contact them now and then in the same way Judge Treena and her identity-changing gang worked out for you before.” He tilted his head slightly as he observed her with those inquisitive blue eyes. “The team did provide a way for you to get in touch occasionally, didn’t they?”

She nodded. “Yes, a prepaid phone. That’s how I knew they were being threatened in the first place.”

And why she had chosen to disobey Judge Treena’s orders and return here.

“Right. Okay, then. I’ll check with the judge first thing when I get up tomorrow. And you’ve got to realize that her quid pro quo may mean that you’ll need to leave and let me do my job.”

Beth glared at Daniel. “Is that what you want, too? I thought we were helping each other.”

The gaze he leveled on her in response was unreadable. “I’ll tell her that so far at least, you’ve seemed more of an asset than a liability.”

“Gee, thanks.” Beth’s sarcasm poured out once more, disguising the hurt she felt that he wasn’t expressing more satisfaction with what she’d hoped was turning into a mutually beneficial effort.

“You’re welcome,” he said easily, apparently deciding to ignore her snipe at him. “There’s probably no easy way to pass along at work tomorrow what Judge Treena says, though.”

Almost as if a whole wave of new diners had just entered the restaurant, the tables around them suddenly filled.

Beth knew that the best way to continue for now was to act as though they really had chosen to remain as teammates—which, in a way, they had, at least for the moment. That meant they should discuss what their next moves, respectively, should be. But here and now wasn’t a good place to get into that. Not while it would be so easy for them to be overheard.

“All right, then,” she said, “tomorrow night we’ll start meeting at our respective apartments to recap what each of us has done and to plan what comes next.” That should be vague enough so that even if they were overheard, no one would know what she was talking about.

“Yeah,” he said. “Sure you can keep your hands off me?” He aimed that now-familiar sexy smirk at her.

“And what’ll you do if I don’t?” she demanded, forcing herself to smile back.

“Wouldn’t you like to find out?”

Oh, wouldn’t she? Yeah, especially if it helped to convince him to stay on her side. But this kind of sensual banter was okay only while they couldn’t do anything about it. When they were together alone again, needing to plan their respective actions, they had to do just that: plan. Stay focused. Talk.

And staying away from each other physically? Was that possible?

“Look, Daniel, maybe this isn’t such a good idea. Can we figure out another way to coordinate what we’re doing? Maybe there’s someplace else where we could meet that’s neutral but not as public as a restaurant. Or just talk over secure phone lines.”

His smirk was gone. His handsome features beneath his spectacles were serious once more. “No need. You’re right. Under other circumstances, all this teasing and fooling around might be fun, but not now. We’ll keep our minds focused and our hands to ourselves, no matter where we are. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Beth felt relief wash over her. There was a hint of disappointment, too. But she would live with it.

“All right,” Daniel said. He looked around, then leaned toward her. “Since we have an agreement and some strategizing to do—and we can’t really talk much here—let’s start those private meetings tonight.”

She stared at him. He was challenging her again? Well, she would meet that challenge, hands down. “Sure,” she said. “Let’s do it.”

* * *

His place was slightly closer, so that was where they headed. As before, they drove their own cars. He had given Beth his address, but she didn’t know this area well and was following him.

That gave Daniel time to remind himself of the potentially volatile nature of their relationship. And to consider what this meeting would be like.

Informational. Maybe even instructional, he figured as he drove along surface streets toward his apartment. There were no convenient freeways, and besides, it wasn’t far.

He checked the rearview mirror of his clunker often to make sure he saw the headlights of the economy car that Beth drove. She’d said she had rented it for the month—and hoped to accomplish what she needed by the time she needed to turn it in again.

He hoped so, too. Maybe with the two of them focused on the same goal, it would happen.

He had recognized her pain when he’d reminded her she shouldn’t be here. He wouldn’t pursue that further for now, though. Not as long as they continued to complement each other’s actions. And as long as she didn’t forget that he was the one with the job to do here.

He usually kept the local news station on, but at the moment he wanted to concentrate on the drive and on planning their upcoming discussion.

Beth kept up with him despite the hour. At least he stayed on major streets that were lit fairly well.

It didn’t take long to get there. He had told Beth to park on the street in front of his place, and he motioned her to an empty space. Then he pulled around back to the entrance to the underground garage.

The most interesting part of the evening was about to begin. But as much as he kept reminding himself not even to think about the steamy sex they had shared before—and as much as the reminder made his body stand up and take notice—he would do the right thing from now on.

Their time together was limited. It was important that they just talk and strategize so their efforts could remain in sync. They could not get any more involved, not on any level. He wasn’t about to engage his emotions again in a dangerous work-related situation, even though he had no intention of allowing anyone to harm Beth.

Even him.

And so he would keep his hands off her.

Chapter 11

“N
ice place,” Beth said as she entered Daniel’s apartment. It was on the upper floor in a small development consisting of a block of three-story buildings, some connected and some that appeared like narrow attached town houses. They were all granite-colored stucco with matching multipaned windows and attractive landscaping.

Daniel’s unit apparently had at least one bedroom, unlike her own tiny efficiency apartment. A hallway with several doors led to the right of the small tiled entry area.

The living room lay straight ahead. She glanced that way and saw its sofa in plush tawny upholstery with three fluffy pillows. It matched two armchairs set at angles nearby. They all looked comfortable but as impersonal as hers. She suspected the furniture had been rented for Daniel’s time here, too.

At least the sofa looked far different from her convertible bed. That was a good thing. Daniel’s couch would be used only for them to sit and discuss plans for finding evidence at Corcoris.

The whole way here, she’d mentally kicked herself for agreeing to come despite her needing to ensure that they continued to strategize together. Sure, they hadn’t come up with any better way to hold their discussions. But stay professional and focused while all alone with this guy in his apartment?

She could do it. Would do it. It didn’t matter that she was attracted to him. She wasn’t attracted at all to his cavalier attitude about their working together.

Even so, staying physically away from the guy would require effort. That was okay. She was used to meeting challenges, no matter how hard.

Hard...like his body? Like his erection?

She laughed internally without cracking a smile. No way did she want him to suspect what she was thinking.

Daniel followed her in and shut the door. An overhead light illuminated the living room but he flicked on a surprisingly ornate lamp on an end table between the sofa and one of the chairs. “Have a seat.” He gestured toward the couch. “Would you like anything to drink?”

Being alone here with Daniel gave her an urge to have another alcoholic drink to boost her bravado, but she said, “A glass of water would be great.”

Taking her seat, she watched him go down the hall, presumably to the kitchen. He returned soon with two glasses of water.

Good. He would remain in control of his urges, too.

Too? She really wasn’t sure that avoiding another drink would ensure that she stayed in control. She was alone with the hottest man she had met in a long time. Maybe ever.

One she had shared a phenomenal sexual encounter with just last night.

One she ached to have sex with again—if only that weren’t the most foolish thing imaginable. She had to make sure he was convinced about her professionalism.

“Here you are.” He neared where she was seated and held out one of the glasses to her, apparently misinterpreting her momentary stare at his strong and agile hands. “The water’s safe. I have a new filter on my sink. But if you’d rather, I can give you a fresh bottle.”

She laughed. “No, I’m fine with tap water, particularly if it’s filtered.” She accepted the glass and took a nice long sip, again contemplating something stronger. She inhaled deeply and met his gaze. “Okay, let’s get down to it. Where do we begin our discussion and strategizing tonight?”

He sat down on the far end of the sofa from her, put his glass down on the glass-topped table in front of them and crossed his muscular jeans-clad legs. The movements were casual, yet they still managed to increase her awareness of being so close to this man who got her juices flowing by just being nearby.

She sipped some more water. Good thing it was cold.

“Just preliminarily,” he began, “I want more information from you. We talked a bit about it before, but tell me more now about what happened when you first decided to become a whistle-blower.”

Beth felt her mood change immediately from sexual awareness to sorrow and frustration. Maybe that was a good thing.

“Before I ran away from Corcoris and Moravo Beach,” she said, “I’d thought by just letting the authorities know what I’d heard and the threats I’d received that I’d be able to bring down at least Preston, and maybe more. We talked before about my going to the local cops. As I said, I wasn’t surprised that they didn’t follow up on my suspicions about games being played with drug testing and quality control—that was a federal thing. But the threats, after the attack on me—”

“You had no proof.” Daniel’s mouth was puckered in a thin line. “No emails or phone messages or anything except allegations. Your word against Corcoris’s.”

She bent her head in sadness. “Right,” she whispered. But then she forced herself to rally. “But I knew enough after working for a pharmaceutical company for a while to recognize that what I’d learned about the meds issues had to be reported to the FDA. It was my obligation, since people’s lives were at stake. When I left this area, I flew to D.C. on my own nickel and set up a meeting there. But by then, having been brushed off by the local authorities, I suspected that the feds would want more than just my reporting what I’d heard. That’s why I didn’t try a local district office first. I was wrong. The FDA took me seriously enough to conduct an inspection—and found nothing.” Tears rushed to her eyes, damn it. She sloughed them away, not looking at Daniel.

“Frustrating,” he suggested gently.

“Yeah. But I made enough noise and must have sounded like I spoke with some reason for my suspicions—and fear—since I got a call from Judge Treena before I could slink my way out of D.C.”

“And the rest was history.”

“Unfinished history,” she contradicted. “So, yeah, in addition to getting my new identity thanks to Judge Treena’s granting my petition, I received some facts on what would have constituted genuine evidence. Just for informational purposes, she and her peeps told me. No way was I ever to get near Corcoris or his pharmaceuticals enterprise again.” She snorted. “I wish that was true. But I was damned if I’d let him harm my family.”

“Just make sure you stay damned alive.” His expression had turned hard. Cold.

“I will.” But she sensed there was a lot more that he wasn’t saying. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Yeah. I do. You’re my responsibility as long as we’re working together.”

She wasn’t going to let that stand. Besides, she wanted to know what he was thinking. Was that why he kept reminding her of Judge Treena’s opinion that she shouldn’t be here? But she wasn’t asking for his protection. There had to be something more that he wasn’t saying.

“Forget that,” she said insistently. “I’m my own responsibility. If you think otherwise, you’d better tell me why. I don’t think it’s CIU policy, since the recipients of new IDs and CIU agents aren’t really supposed to meet.”

He stood, his fists clenched as if he wanted to strike something. Not her. She knew he was still in protective mode and wanted to understand it.

“No, it’s my choice,” he finally said. “I lost a confidential informant once when I was with the FBI. It’s not going to happen again.”

Oh. Interesting, but not really relevant. Even so— “Tell me about it,” she said softly, patting the couch to encourage him to sit down again.

He complied but scowled at her. “Not much to tell. She was my CI. She didn’t follow my instructions. And she died.” The pain on his face was unmistakable.

Beth couldn’t help asking, “And you cared about her, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I did.” His voice was low, and his words pierced her. “But you don’t have to worry about me, either. As long as you’re around, I’ll protect you, you’ll be okay, and that’ll be it.”

She took another long swig of nice cold water despite the chill she already felt. “Of course,” she finally said. “I’ll be fine.” She hesitated. “Can we get back to our discussion?”

“Good idea.” He looked at her, his expression easing. “So why don’t you just tell me what your plans were when you came here besides finding a way inside the headquarters’ walls?”

That was a definite return to their conversation. No emotion. As if they hadn’t even mentioned what was really on his mind.

It was better that way. Unless it made sense otherwise, she would pretend, too, that he hadn’t said anything personal.

She needed to digest what he’d said...later.

For now, she just gave a shrug. “Preston had threatened my family,” she said. “I figured I’d determine a way to get some kind of real evidence once I was here.”

“And I gather that you’re still working on it.” His expression was now encouraging, but his tone sounded skeptical. Which wasn’t surprising. He had been here a few weeks longer than she had, he knew more of what to look for...and he, too, hadn’t yet had much success.

“Of course I am. And I’ll succeed.” She felt her lower lip jut out obstinately, as if daring him to tell her what a fool she was.

Sure, she knew it. But that didn’t stop her from trying.

“What about you?” she countered then. “You’re here officially and you got some guidance. You must have come with a good idea of what you’re after and how to get it.”

“A good idea? Yes. And I wouldn’t have come if all I had was a cloudy notion of what’s needed.”

Beth was suddenly angry. First he acted overprotective, and now he was criticizing her? She stood, ready to either throw the rest of her water in his face or leave. Or both.

“Calm down, Beth,” he said gently. “We really are on the same side, you know.”

“Then why are you—”

“Ribbing you? Because I want to make sure you realize that in that respect I agree with Judge Treena. It’s not a good idea that you came here on your own, especially without a plan. Now, sit back down and we’ll discuss possibilities, okay?”

He was right. Might even be saving her eagerly anticipated case against Corcoris...and maybe her life. “Okay,” she agreed quietly, and resumed her seat.

At least now, despite their location, she had no urge to drag Daniel off to bed. He had turned her off but good. In more ways than one.

Her pride was wounded. Her self-confidence, too.

And whatever had happened the other night, he clearly didn’t care about her other than as someone he had to work with—unlike that confidential informant he’d lost.

Well, he was the professional here. The undercover CIU member had knowledge and traction, and backup would be sent here if he needed it.

The only backup she had was him. Maybe.

“Here’s where I think we are,” he said. “First, do you know much about the feds’ real witness protection program?”

“A little.” She had looked into it some when she had hoped to be able to participate, before she had been informed that she wasn’t really a witness.

Daniel, still seated, leaned forward, his hands clasped between his jeans-clad knees. Why did that gesture appear sexy?

Maybe it was because the muscles in his arms rippled as he moved.

But Beth ignored how her insides tensed at the observation, forcing herself to just listen to him.

“Since the beginning of the program,” he said, “a lot of the actual witnesses were members of the mob who decided, for their own longevity, to testify against their former cohorts. They could describe in court what they had actually seen and heard and experienced, even what crimes they themselves had committed.”

“And all I could testify about was what I’d heard from Milt.” Beth sat back. She curled her arms around herself protectively. “Or that Preston Corcoris had come on to me, then threatened me. But he was so discreet about it no one else ever saw or heard anything, and he left no evidence.”

“That’s what I was told when I was brought into this case. Not that I was informed about who you were now, but that the crimes I was to look into here involved unproven allegations by a former employee named Andrea Martinez. If any of the allegations were true, those connected with drugs being manufactured here could lead to illness, or even death, of innocent patients being prescribed those meds.”

“So...well, we’ve talked about this in generalities before, but specifically, your mission is to find tangible proof that can be used in court to prove that the test data recorded here was falsified and that the company’s quality control has been compromised. The stuff I heard rumors of but had no evidence about before I left.”

“Exactly.”

That was his official job. Watching over her was the personal mission he had taken on—but not if she could help it. Not now. But working together was fine. Necessary.

At least the conversation was calm now. Beth felt relieved. Daniel wasn’t criticizing her for not collecting evidence before she’d left. That never happened— exactly—with Judge Treena and her subordinates, either, but what was left unsaid sometimes sounded as loudly in her mind as what her ears actually heard.

“That’s what I hoped to do here, too,” she said. “I’d figured that if I worked in the labs, preferably when no one else was there, I’d at least pick up on something but I haven’t gotten much so far.”

“Same here, but I’m thinking more and more about those log sheets and how they can be fudged to look good in reports, at least on the computer. What do you know about them?”

“I’d heard about them before, when I worked here, and I also heard some speculation after the FDA’s unannounced inspection as a result of my claims. The logs are kept all the time in the manufacturing facility across the way, handwritten and initialed with names, dates, information about ingredients and their origin, and test results. The log sheets are then scanned into computers here—and nearly all the information, even regarding the drugs that I’d heard from my friend Milt Ranich were trash, apparently looked perfect. But as a member of the cleaning staff, I haven’t had much opportunity to try to find those reports and check them somehow against the quality-control tests being performed here by the lab techs like you.”

“That’s why I’m trying to ‘borrow’ passwords,” Daniel said, “and find out what might be buried in the executives’ private files.”

Beth nodded. “Great. I hope you’ll keep me informed. And that’s not all I hoped to accomplish. I keep a phone in my pocket with recording ability so I can capture any conversations like the ones I could only say I’d heard before...although so far no one has talked to me like that except those doctors in the ladies’ room. I did record all that, by the way.”