Heat Seeker (13 page)

No, she didn’t believe in coincidence, but she knew that she couldn’t depend on her emotions right now, either.

That left the man and the mission. For the moment, those two things she could control.

As she reached the city limits her cell phone rang imperatively, drawing a grimace to her lips as she pulled it from the console of her Mercedes SUV. She checked the number quickly.

Her brows lifted. She’d expected John, not the man she had always considered her nemesis.

“Hello, Raymond,” she answered as she slowed down to
weave into the mass of tourist traffic entering ahead of her. “What can I do for you this morning?”

“Good afternoon, Bailey. Mary was wondering if you’d like to meet us for lunch at Casamara’s. That is, if you have nothing else planned.”

Her brows lifted. “I’d love to. I always enjoy Mary’s company.”

He chuckled at that, another surprising reaction. “Perhaps we should allow the past to remain in the past,” he said smoothly. “After all, there’s no reason for us to remain at odds, as you said the other night. We’ve both learned our lessons the hard way where the agency is concerned.”

“Trial by fire is more like it,” she muttered into the link.

“Yes, the betrayal can often be a hard one,” he said sympathetically. “Meet Mary and me, my dear. I think you’ll find the afternoon a rewarding one.”

She thought perhaps it was very possible.

“I’ve just entered town actually,” she told him. “When would you like to meet?”

“Let’s say an hour,” he suggested. “That should give us plenty of time to arrive. I’ve already made reservations.”

“I’m looking forward to it then.” She added just the right touch of relief to her voice. “Thank you, Raymond.” And that last touch nearly choked her.

She hated thanking Raymond Greer for anything.

“In an hour then,” he reaffirmed. “It will be nice to merely visit rather than snipe at each other.”

But sniping at him was so much fun, especially considering that she detested him.

The call ended, and as Bailey flipped the phone shut she drew in a hard, deep breath. She was certain she should call John and let him know about the upcoming meeting.

She grinned at the thought. Maybe five minutes before she actually met with Raymond would work. It wouldn’t do to give him too much time to rush to the restaurant, not after last night.

Driving to the restaurant, Bailey left her car with the valet before entering and moving to the bar. Casamara’s was
one of the more elite restaurants in the city, with a cozy little bar for customers who stopped in for a drink rather than a meal.

There were several couples sitting inside the intimate atmosphere of the bar. Coffee, hot chocolate and lattes were in heavy demand with tourists and residents alike. Moving to the back of the room, Bailey slid into a booth that afforded her a clear view of the entrance and ordered coffee as she watched the maître d’ greet guests and escort them into the dining room.

Casamara’s had been one of her mother’s favorite restaurants, she remembered. Shopping trips always began with coffee in the bar and then lunch in the dining room when she and her mother had been together.

As much as she hated shopping, Bailey had always loved shopping with her mother. Angelina had always made their trips fun, her witty asides about both friends and strangers, as well as her exceptional ability to convince Bailey to wear clothing creations she would have otherwise turned her nose up at, had never failed to amaze her.

She missed her parents. Ben Serborne had been loving and kind. He had seen the world clearly, but often ignored the parts of it that he didn’t enjoy. The dirty, corrupted parts. He had ignored those traits in his friends as well, she thought. If he hadn’t, perhaps he wouldn’t have died.

Lifting her coffee cup to her lips, she considered the meeting Raymond had called. His wife Mary would be with him. Frail and kind, Mary couldn’t possibly be a part of Warbucks’s circle. The other woman was like a child sometimes. She’d been ill for most of Bailey’s life, but she’d always been a gentle, guiding influence during Bailey’s teenage years.

It never failed to amaze her how easily Raymond had stepped into her life, though. Bailey had always thought Mary had exceptional taste in friends, until she had met Raymond.

Bailey wondered if her friend had ever realized that her meeting with Raymond hadn’t been an accident? Ten years before, Raymond’s assignment had been to find a way to get
close to Ford Grace and to learn if his European transportation company had been infiltrated by terrorists. There had been suspicion that Grace’s interests there were being used to transport both people and weapons through Europe and into the United States.

It had been determined that the quickest way into Grace’s inner circle was through the sister. One of the few people in his life that Grace didn’t abuse.

Funny that, she thought. Ford Grace had terrorized his wife and his daughter, but he was known to spoil his sister outrageously and to worry constantly about her welfare.

Raymond had taken that assignment seriously. Within a year he had quietly resigned from the CIA and his engagement to Mary had been announced. An heiress in her own right, Mary had transformed Raymond from a stooped, studious appearance to a weasel in silk.

“Bailey. Bailey Serborne?”

Lifting her gaze from the coffee, Bailey felt a smile curl her lips as she lifted her head and met the frank, light green gaze of Wagner Grace.

“Wagner.” Sliding from the booth, she came to her feet, her arms wrapping around his neck as he lifted her from her feet in a tight, carefree hug.

She hated Ford Grace, but Wagner had been her best friend’s brother and the brother Bailey had never had.

“Damn, you’re looking good.” He laughed as he set her back on her feet and flipped the end of her nose gently. “Look at you, all grown up and pretty as a damned picture.”

“And you’re as handsome as sin.” Standing back, she gazed up at him, seeing the face of the young man she had once treasured.

At thirty-nine Wagner was trim and lightly muscular. Dressed in a heavy sweater and jeans, he was the epitome of the successful mature male. His light green eyes gleamed with laughter, his sun-darkened face was creased in a smile.

“Bailey, you remember Grant.” He moved back and only years of training kept Bailey’s expression friendly.

Where Ford was the epitome of a successful mature man, Grant Waterstone was the epitome of a spoiled little rich boy.

At thirty-five Grant was handsome in a clinical sense. With his black hair, blue eyes and broad shoulders, he gave all appearances of success. Jeans, a light pullover sweater, and leather coat completed the look. But there was something in his gaze that set off warnings in her gut.

“Bailey and I saw each other at Rhamie’s little party in Paris several months ago.” Grant smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “She’s looking as exquisite as always.”

“Isn’t she though,” Wagner chuckled before turning back to Bailey. “May we join you for coffee? We were getting ready to hit the slopes later. You should join us.”

Skiing was one of Wagner’s favorite hobbies. It had been one Bailey had never quite been able to enjoy.

“Of course you may.” Bailey smiled as she slid back into the booth, wishing the two would have continued on to the slopes rather than barging in on her thoughts.

“Father mentioned you were still here last night,” Wagner stated as the waitress materialized with extra cups and another pot of coffee. “Actually, I believe I heard him screaming it over the phone.” He winced slightly. “Still not getting along with him, dear?”

She shrugged easily as she sat back in her seat.

“Did Bailey ever get along with anyone well?” Grant asked then, his nasal accent grating on her senses. “Really, Wagner, I believe you’re the only one of us that she really cared much for.”

Wagner laughed as Bailey slid Grant a tight smile. “I guess Wagner just wasn’t as abrasive as the rest of you,” she stated coolly. “You should take lessons, Grant.”

He sniffed in disdain. “I rather doubt it, sweetheart. Perhaps you’ve simply been associating with commoners for far too long. They’ve rubbed off on you.”

She refrained from making a fist and ramming it into his face. The good thing about associating with real people was the fact that they were simply that, real. They might have an
agenda, but it wasn’t nearly as corrupt and diseased as those she had seen when she was younger in the people who believed they were so much better.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Grant.” She tilted her head as she shot him a tight smile. “The good thing about common people is the fact that they don’t pretend to be anything else, while I’ve noticed far more privileged people have a habit of being more common than those they look down their perfect noses on.”

“Still a bitch, aren’t you?” He glared back at her.

“Enough, Grant,” Wagner’s voice hardened with a snap at the insult. “If you want to be an ass, then you can head on to the resort and I’ll meet up with you later.”

Grant’s lips thinned for a moment as he shot Bailey such a look of dislike that she was certain it should have seared her. Unfortunately, she really didn’t care if Grant Waterstone liked her or not.

“I think I just might do that.” He slid out of the booth as his lips curled into a sneer. “The company here is growing a bit stale.”

He stalked away as Bailey refrained from calling out a “Good riddance.”

“He spends too much time with Father,” Wagner sighed as he lifted his cup and sipped from his coffee. “They’ve become rather close over the past few years.” There was an edge of sadness in Wagner’s voice, almost a regret.

“You never were much like Ford, Wagner,” she stated. “Be thankful for that. Unfortunately, Grant is too much like him.”

Wagner shook his head at that before staring back at her. “I’ve missed you, Bailey. It’s almost like having Anna back when you’re here.”

The pain at the mention of his sister sliced across Bailey’s heart.

“I miss her, too.” It had been so many years since Anna and her mother had been killed, but the anger and the hatred hadn’t dimmed.

Nodding slowly, Wagner finished his coffee before sliding
to the edge of the seat. Before leaving, he paused and glanced back at her.

“Father wants you out of Aspen.” His voice was low, warning. “He’ll make things hard on you.”

“He’s rather good at that.” She smiled as though it didn’t bother her. “I’ve been back for a year now, Wagner. I’m certain he knows by now that he can’t run me off.”

“But he’s still trying,” he told her. “Be careful, darling, I’d hate to see him succeed.”

With that, Wagner left the table, stopping long enough to kiss her cheek before he left the bar. Bailey shook her head, wondering if Ford Grace had ever cared that his son was ten times the man Grant Waterstone could ever be.

He likely didn’t, and if he did, Bailey doubted he cared. Wagner wasn’t cold and power-driven as Ford was, or as Grant Waterstone was. It made sense that Ford was taking Grant under his wing and working with him. Not that Grant needed the help. His own father, Samuel Waterstone, thought his eldest son could do no wrong.

It was typical of those she had been raised with. It was typical of the society she had been raised within. The children were taught that they had no equals. They were superior, laws unto themselves. Those lessons had created adults with no compassion, no mercy, and even less honor.

Sipping at her coffee, Bailey bit back the anger that tore through her at the thought of the cruelty that existed here, thinly veiled and shadowed. She’d almost succeeded when she glimpsed Raymond entering the restaurant with his petite, smiling wife.

Mary was an attractive woman for her fifty years, much too attractive for the arrogant, cruel Raymond.

Rising to her feet, Bailey moved from the bar to the restaurant, keeping her stride slow and easy, taking her time. Glancing at her watch, she was pleased to see that she would be only be a few minutes early.

“Bailey.” Raymond rose politely to his feet as the maître d’ escorted her to the table several moments later. “Your timing, as always, is faultless.”

And what a change. She allowed him to grip her hands with his own cool, baby-soft ones and place a kiss on her cheek with his too-damp lips.

She had to force back a shudder of revulsion before drawing away from him.

“Hello, Mary.” Bailey turned to her friend and bent to kiss her pale face. “How are you doing?”

“Very well, my dear,” Mary declared, a genuine smile gracing her lips. “I hear you’ve picked up a beau since coming home. A very exciting one.”

Bailey glanced in Raymond’s direction, knowing he would be more than aware of John’s background and wondering how much he had told his wife.

“Mary enjoys listening to rumor, my dear.” He smiled indulgently at his wife. “I believe one of the guests at a party last night mentioned that he might have a shady past.”

“John, a shady past?” She grinned as though the thought amused her. “I’ll have to ask him about that.”

“There you go, spoiling all my adventurous tendencies,” Mary pouted in amusement.