Hidden Agenda (13 page)

Michael put his shirt back on. “The last few months have been hard. My family believes I'm dead. There were lots of times when I felt like I was losing touch with who I was. With why I was doing what I was doing.”

“Is it worth it?” The question struck a chord in her own mind. Saving Michael might have been worth it, but the fallout was still to be determined.

“I don't know yet.”

“You live in a completely different world than I do.” She dropped the cream and other supplies back into the first-aid
kit, then snapped the lid shut. “Until tonight, I've never had to worry about people coming after me with guns. I sit in front of a computer screen all day long. The only weapons I use are words.”

“Maybe we're not so different after all. We both have a desire for truth and justice to prevail.” He finished buttoning his shirt, then slid the first-aid kit back into the cupboard where they found it. “Did you used to come here often as a child?”

She smiled at the memories. “My mother loved these mountains. Loved watching the sunrise. We usually came a couple times a year. We'd spend the days hiking or riding the trails.”

“I'm surprised we didn't run into each other.” Michael leaned back against the couch cushions. “My mother loved bringing us up here at least once a year, normally about this time. We had plenty of popcorn, movies, and Monopoly, just about every night.”

Ivan walked back into the living room, stopping to check on Gizmo, who had curled up on a thick rug. “I hope the owners don't mind a dog in the house, but it's too cold to leave him outside.”

“I think you're right.” Olivia caught the lack of emotion on his face as he signed. “Are you all right, Ivan? I'm worried about you after everything that happened today—”

“You always worry,” he said. “Just not about the right things.”

“Ivan—”

He turned away, leaving her frustrated and still worried.

“Why don't the two of you get some sleep,” Michael said, “while I stand guard the next couple hours.”

“I don't mind taking the first watch,” Olivia said. She'd have to find time to talk with Ivan later. “You need your rest, and I won't be able to sleep for a long time.”

He paused. “I'll be fine. I'm used to getting by with little sleep—”

“Not tonight. You're in no condition to keep pushing it.”

He hesitated again. “Okay. Can you handle a rifle?”

“No.” She glanced at the weapon and felt her stomach churn. “But trust me, if anything happens, you'll hear about it.”

“I guess that'll do.” Michael chuckled. “Wake me up in a couple hours for my shift. We'll need to be out of here before the sun comes up.”

M
ichael poured himself a mug of coffee from the pot he'd just brewed, added sugar and creamer, then took a long sip. He rummaged through the small first-aid kit Olivia had used yesterday and found two more pain relievers, hoping to cut the pain still radiating in his side. Olivia was right. He needed to see a doctor to see what kind of damage he'd sustained, but that wasn't the only thing he'd decided.

He gazed out the kitchen window onto the darkened lawn, lit only by the light of the moon, studying the scene for movement. He'd already swept the perimeter of the house a half-dozen times since Olivia had awakened him. So far, the only activity he'd seen was the unannounced visit of a skunk, but that didn't mean those men weren't out there somewhere, searching the shadows for them.

He checked the digital clock on the microwave. It was still at least two hours before the sun would begin making its first appearance of the day, but they were going to have to get moving soon. In the meantime, he figured the pain medicine and a cup of strong coffee would keep him going.

Moonlight filtered through the windows of the living room where Ivan was just waking up and Olivia was still sleeping.
The temperatures had continued to drop, bringing with the cold front a couple of inches of snow across the hard ground.

Ivan sat up, shoving his blanket onto the floor. Michael smiled at him questioningly and held up his mug. Ivan said a quiet “No, thanks,” and headed to the bathroom.

Michael moved over to the couch where Olivia slept. She was snoring softly beneath a couple of blankets they'd found in a closet. He wished he could let her sleep a few more hours, but they didn't have that much time.

He'd had to remind himself at least a dozen times that this situation was no different from any other situation he'd faced. No matter what his heart was trying to tell him. Getting involved personally simply wasn't an option. And getting involved with the daughter of Antonio Valez was even less of an option.

Forget the fact that she intrigued him. That she was beautiful and managed to stir something inside him every time she looked at him. Forget the fact that he'd soaked up the brief conversations they'd shared over the past few days, making him long to know more about her.

Whatever his heart was feeling at the moment didn't matter. His job—his only job—was to get her to safety. Her life was worlds away from his. Even if he never decided to step back into the undercover business again.

Still, he knelt down beside her, resisting the urge to brush aside a loose strand of smoke-tinged hair, and felt his heart take a dive at her nearness.

“Olivia?”

Her eyelids flicked open slowly as she turned until she was looking up at him. Confusion registered for a few seconds, then her eyes widened.

He shot her a smile. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

“It's still dark.” She pulled the blanket up and squinted at him. “Do we have to get up?”

“It'll be light before long. My father used to tell me this was the best part of the day. The gentle quiet before the storms of the day hit.”

Her nose scrunched up. “Thanks for the reminder.”

He leaned back on his heels. “Sorry. Did you sleep okay?”

“I guess.” She sat up slowly and swung her legs over the edge of the couch, bare feet dangling just above the floor as her frown deepened. “When my mind managed to stop spinning.”

He stood up slowly, thankful that the soreness was beginning to subside. “I'm guessing you're not a morning person?”

“Not even on a good day.”

Her sleepy smile hit the target of his heart dead center. So much for keeping a professional distance. So much for trying to convince himself that Olivia Hamilton should be classified as forbidden territory. His mind hadn't stopped spinning either, but neither could he ignore the crazy fact that the situation they faced wasn't the only thing that had his adrenaline flowing.

“Where's Ivan?” she asked.

“He beat you to the shower.”

She padded across the kitchen floor barefoot, still wearing Felipe's oversized Atlanta Braves sweatshirt she'd had on the night before. She reached, sleepy-eyed, for the pot of coffee he'd made.

“Did you have any trouble staying awake?” she finally asked.

“I did a lot of praying and thinking,” he said, following her into the kitchen.

“Did it help?” she asked as she filled an empty mug with the drink.

“We're stuck in the middle of nowhere with at least two armed men after us, but I was reminded that God is still in control.”

“That kind of faith can be hard to hold on to when the enemy's on the prowl.”

“Yes, it can.”

He watched her take a sip as she tried to wake up, and had the sudden urge to kiss her. Which was crazy. He grabbed a washcloth hanging on a wall peg and started cleaning up an imaginary spill on the counter. Olivia wasn't the first woman he'd felt something for, but every other time, his job had always managed to take priority. And, of course, there was the small detail that most—if not all—of the women he ran into weren't interested in building a life with someone who didn't know how long he would be undercover, or even if he'd ever come home.

So what was it about Olivia Hamilton that made him want to push through all the barriers and find out if he could actually make a relationship work? He dropped the rag into the sink. The answers were standing right in front of him. He'd seen her integrity, sense of duty, and faith, all wrapped up in an outer beauty he found irresistible.

He pushed back the tremulous thoughts, forcing himself to focus on the present. Now that his head was finally clear, there were things he'd thought about during the night that he needed to ask her about. Last night's attack couldn't have been a coincidence. They needed to find out who exactly was after them.

“I've been thinking about a few things. You mentioned you were doing some research about the cartel. Who knew about this?”

She took a sip of her coffee. “I don't know. Ivan. My boss.”

“Did Felipe know?” he asked.

“Yes. I called him last week to ask him some questions. He had some interesting insights.”

“What about your mother? How did he meet her?”

“They met in Mexico back in the eighties. My mother's mother was from his village. Her father was an American diplomat.”

“Did Felipe know Valez?”

“I know they met, though they weren't friends. I remember hearing about some rivalry between the two of them, though I
don't know what. After my mother died, I don't think there was ever any contact between them.” She set her mug down on the counter and caught his gaze. “Why? What are you thinking?”

“I'm not sure yet. I'm just trying to put all of the pieces together. It's easy to assume that whoever attacked us back there in the cabin was after us, but what if they were after Felipe?”

“I can't imagine why. He's an old man who lives alone in the woods.”

“Running from something?”

“He's implied that.”

“From the authorities?”

The sleepy smile that had been on her face began to slowly fade, reminding him that Felipe wasn't the only person who held on to his privacy. “He never elaborated, and I never pushed. He's always been very private.”

“I'm sorry. I know this is personal. I'm just trying to cover all the bases.” He caught the sadness in her expression. Maybe it was time to change the subject. “Are you hungry?”

She let out a big yawn. “Yes, but I'm a bit disappointed. When you woke me up, I was dreaming of sitting around the table with Felipe, eating pancakes with real maple syrup. It was a nice change from the nightmares I kept having.”

She tilted her head and that same unruly curl slipped across her forehead. He pulled open one of the pantry doors, not knowing how to stop the direction his heart was headed.

“I think I'd be disappointed too,” he said, searching for something edible.

“Don't worry, I've got this one. We've got a long day ahead of us, so I'll rummage around and see if I can't come up with something.”

He watched her open one cabinet door after another. She stood on her tiptoes trying to reach a discovered box of pancake mix that was just out of reach. Her dark hair fell in waves against
her back, doing that funny thing to his heart again. He moved in behind her and pulled it off the shelf and handed it to her. “You really are thinking pancakes?” he asked.

She turned around to face him, hugging the box against her chest. Her lips played with a grin, making him wonder if she was really thinking about pancakes or something a bit more . . . personal. Which was ridiculous.

“I can have them ready in ten minutes.”

She'd yet to move, making her close enough that he could see the flecks of gold in her eyes. Close enough for him to realize it was time to run the other direction.

“I think it's a great idea.” He took a step back. “Can I do something?”

“If you could find some syrup, that would be great, or Ivan prefers peanut butter on his.” She grabbed a bowl from the cupboard and started mixing the batter. “Whoever lives here must come often, because the pantry is pretty well stocked. I'm betting you'll find both.”

He smiled at the sight of her whipping up a batch of pancakes. So she had a nurturing side . . .

“Michael?”

“Syrup. Peanut butter. Sorry.”

“What about us? Have you come up with a brilliant plan yet?”

“I wouldn't call it brilliant . . .”

He caught the worry in her expression and knew what she was thinking. The sun would be up in an hour, and they'd yet to discuss any plan that would guarantee their safety out of here. They didn't know where the bad guys were. They didn't even know
who
the bad guys were, except that they presumably worked for her father. And while he'd been in worse situations, now he was taking on the responsibility for her and her brother.

He set a bottle of syrup and a jar of peanut butter on the counter and watched as she ladled the bubbly pancake batter
onto a hot griddle. He paused, unsure of what her reaction would be to his idea, but he knew they didn't have a choice. Running on their own would get them killed.

When she turned around, there was a sprinkle of pancake mix on her nose. “Did you find some syrup?”

He nodded toward the counter. “And peanut butter.”

This time he didn't even try to resist the urge as he reached up to brush the powder away. “There was a . . . some flour on your nose.”

“Thanks.”

Gizmo growled, shifting Michael's attention toward the window—and reminding him how easy it was to get distracted. He picked up the rifle and crossed the room, peering outside into the growing light reflecting off the snow.

“What is it, Michael?”

A black-and-white furball skittered across the yard. “Just a skunk. Probably the same one I saw earlier.”

She leaned back against the counter, the concern in her eyes still there, drew in a deep breath, then went back to flipping the pancakes.

“So what about your not-so-brilliant plan?” she asked.

He stepped back into the kitchen and poured himself another cup of coffee while four pancakes sizzled on the griddle. “We need help. I've decided to call on a friend.”

She scooped the pancakes onto a plate and ladled another batch onto the hot griddle one by one, looking unconvinced. “Who's the friend?”

He dropped two spoonfuls of sugar into his coffee mug, then took a sip. “Someone I would trust with my life.”

“How do we get ahold of this friend?”

“We had an emergency code we developed years ago if either of us got into trouble. There's a password and a rendezvous spot.” He paused, waiting for her reaction.

“Sounds like a couple of kids playing spy. And the rendezvous site? How do we get there?”

“We'll have to hitch a ride with somebody.”

He moved in front of her and swept the stray curl behind her ear. “Let's only worry about one thing at a time.”

Ivan walked into the room and tossed Olivia a set of keys. “I did a bit of exploring after my shower and I found a car in the garage. It's old, but it runs.”

“Hold on,” Olivia said. “We've already raided their cupboards and helped ourselves to whatever we needed, but we're not stealing their car as well.”

“Technically it's just borrowing,” Michael said. “We'll give it back with a full tank of gas. How about that?”

“You're trying to ease my conscience.”

“Yes, but I don't see that we have a choice, Olivia.”

She added the last batch of pancakes to the plate, then turned off the burner. “So where are we headed?”

“To a storage place to pick up my emergency bag, and then on to Piedmont Park.”