Holding Out For A Hero: SEALs, Soldiers, Spies, Cops, FBI Agents and Rangers (65 page)

He left his black.

Watching her he said, “You don’t trust me any more than I trust you. But the stakes have changed for you now that Richard’s buyer has tried to take you out.”

Eve felt resentment rising, but held her tongue, letting him get it all out.

“We’ve now been placed in a position where we have the same objective, rather than before when finding the buyer for you would mean that he would implicate you and give us what we need to create an air tight case against you. Being in prison beats being dead. If you have anything you want to tell me about your relationship with the buyer, now’s the time.” Burke held her gaze.

Eve stared at him in stony silence.

“Okay,” Burke said, after a moment, his voice tight. “Your call.”

He turned away from her. His disbelief fueled her anger. She forced herself to move past it. She had a bigger more important matter to focus on.

“Whoever planted the bomb also tampered with my insulin injectors. That means that someone had to get close enough to me to make that switch.” She pushed off the counter and paced the small kitchen space in quick steps, her urgency mounting. “We need to go over who I’ve had contact with since yesterday. Other than Allie,” she said firmly. “Who else had access to my purse to switch my insulin? I left my purse unattended during Dr. Abernathy’s lecture while you and I followed the instructions in the text message. Someone at that lecture could have gained access to my purse. We need to review the backgrounds on the chemists at the conference.”

She noticed that Burke hadn’t said a word and she stopped pacing to face him.

“Finished?” he asked.

“That’ll do for a start.”

“There is no start. At least not for us. Lanski is handling the investigative part.”

She arched her brows. “Your people think I’m a traitor. Just how hard will they work to find my assassin?”

Burke leaned back against the counter. “They’ll do their jobs, regardless of their personal distaste for the assignment. And if you choose not to believe that, we still want the buyer. Your assassin may lead us to the buyer. Our job, yours and mine, is to lay low and let my people do what they need to do.”

Burke was right. Finding her assassin may lead to finding the buyer. She felt some measure of comfort, but still wanted to be active in the investigation. “Don’t forget I was a cop. You can’t expect me to just sit around here and do nothing while someone is out there planning on how to kill me.”

“That’s exactly what I expect and what you will do. I’d also rather be out hunting this guy myself than being your babysitter.”

“Babysitter!”

“That’s right. Tough break for us both, Doctor. Look upon the next couple of days as a reprieve.”

He downed the last of the coffee in his mug, then set it in the sink. Eve watched him make his way to the burlap couch. She was certain her anger was palpable.

“A reprieve?” She strode to the couch. “I need to find out who tried to kill me. I need to clear my name.”

Burke sat on one of the thick cushions and tilted his head back to look up at her. The angle showed his strong jaw, dark with stubble.

“For the next couple of days, you’re going to stay put. Here. With me. We’re both going to have to accept that. Now, I’m going to get some sleep. You slept like a well-fed baby last night in the hospital. I know because I watched you. Which means I didn’t sleep at all. A sleepless night combined with ten hours of driving to get here has me a little tired. I’m going to shut down for a few hours. I suggest you do the same.”

He lay down and released an audible and Eve believed an involuntary sigh. He’d been running on adrenaline and sheer force of will for thirty six hours. Eve felt a flutter of compassion which she tamped down. It was his fault she was in this mess in the first place. Well, Richard’s actually, but if Burke believed her claim of innocence, then they would be working together to find the accomplice and then through the accomplice the buyer instead of being adversaries.

“Burke—”

“Oh, if you’re thinking of running out and trying to track down the buyer yourself to cut a deal and maybe save your hide, I’d advise you to consider that you’re in dense woods here, miles from a road, and there’s a lake opposite us. I have keys to both the car and the boat docked out front in the pockets of these jeans I’m wearing. I sleep light. Don’t think you can get the keys out without waking me. And, if you decide to stick your hands in my pockets, I just may think you’re there for another reason altogether.”

Eve gave him a fulminating look. “On top of being arrogant, you’ve got quite an ego. Must get heavy, carrying it around.”

Burke closed his eyes. “Turn off the light on your way out, would you?”

Eve had more fight left in her, but Burke had dismissed her. An instant later, his breathing slowed and his chest rose in the deep even rhythm of sleep.

She had more to say to him, but it was going to have to wait. She turned out the light and went to Burke’s room.

The room held only an armoire, nightstand and a bed. The furniture was large, the bed massive. Eve stretched out on the mattress. The bed was made with sheets patterned with blue stripes. They smelled faintly of lemon and were fresh and crisp. Burke must have made up the bed while she’d been in the bathroom, taking her insulin injection.

Either he liked a lot of space when he slept, or he didn’t sleep alone when he was up here. The thought of Burke tangling in the sheets with a woman did strange things to Eve’s insides. She pushed the thought away.

She was angry at him over their argument and didn’t think she’d be able to sleep, but fatigue outweighed the anger and she did sleep. She awoke to the smell of bacon frying. The bedroom faced east and caught the first morning rays but with the progression of the sun, the room was now in twilight. She glanced at her watch, squinting to make out the numbers in the dimness. One o’clock. Afternoon. She’d slept half the day away. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done that.

She’d slept in her clothes. Her shorts and blouse were wrinkled. She hadn’t looked in a mirror, but she knew that her dark hair was wild upon awakening. She had no reason to think today would be the exception to that rule. Since she slept on her stomach, squashing her face into the pillow beneath her head, her eyes tended to be puffy and droopy when she rose from her slumber.

Normally, she would make herself presentable before facing another person. She spotted her suitcase by the front door where Burke must have left it. She’d have to walk past him to get it. So much for making herself presentable before facing him.

She leaned back against the wall and bowed her head. With the state her life was in, her appearance was her least concern.

She padded over the worn wood floor to the kitchen, following the scent of coffee and the promise of caffeine. Burke stood at the stove, cracking eggs into a sizzling skillet. The eggs made a hissing sound as they struck the hot pan.

He wore jeans again but had added a shirt. His dark hair was damp from a recent shower and combed back from his face. He’d shaved exposing the hard jaw line that seemed to always draw her eye when she glanced at him. She looked away from it, from him.

His gaze lifted from the skillet at her approach and honed on her. His jaw tensed. In reaction to her rumpled state? Was he a man who expected women to be perfectly groomed all the time? Thinking that about him, she reluctantly admitted caused a sense of disappointment. For some reason, she’d expected better of him.

He was blocking her view of the coffee maker. “Is there coffee?”

Burke stepped aside, clearing a path and revealing a three-quarters full pot. The mug she’d used the night before was washed and draining on a rubber mat. She moved closer to him to retrieve the mug and fill it. His body tensed and he took another step away from her. Well, damn, she needed some tidying up, but his reaction was getting downright insulting.

Burke’s own mug stood near the pot. He clasped it by the base rather than the ear, his large hand completely covering a decal of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

Eve went to the fridge and helped herself to the milk. Burke returned to the skillet.

The aroma wafting from the pan made Eve’s mouth water. She’d had no more than a greasy burger from a twenty-four hour fast food drive thru the night before. Burke had eaten the same and as he went about filling two plates with eggs, bacon, potatoes, and toast with portions suitable for a team of lumberjacks, it was obvious that he was famished as well.

She gained further evidence of that when he dug in and cleared his plate before she’d had little more time than to settle onto the wooden kitchen chair.

* * *

Burke forced himself to keep his gaze on his plate—and not on the woman seated across from him at his table. It was turning out to be a monumental task. She was an attractive woman, no doubt about it, and she knew how to make the most of her looks. She had the makeup and fashion thing perfected to an art. Yeah, she was pretty, and he couldn’t deny that beauty jump started his heart and his libido every time he saw her, but seeing her in his kitchen a few moments ago had nearly induced a coronary.

Here she was, straight from bed—his bed—her long, dark hair wild around her face and spilling to her shoulders. Her eyes heavy-lidded from sleep. And her scent—there was a scent coming off her that didn’t come from a cosmetics bottle. It was pure woman and unique to her. The wild hair, pouty lips . . . and that scent. He wanted nothing more than to take her back to his bed and make love with her until they both were too exhausted to move. And then, he wanted to make love with her all over again.

Of course that was out of the question. Of all the women in the world, why did he have to want this one? He’d known attractive women before. Truth be told, women who were more beautiful than Eve. But, they hadn’t made him want the way she did.

He felt a measure of disgust with himself for having any thoughts about her that weren’t professional. She was suspected of treason. She had created a weapon to kill innocent people for her own profit. If she hadn’t been found out, and by people who put their lives on the line every day to save lives—including her own—her plot would have been successful.

That thought grated. Her betrayal of her own people grated. His gaze lifted to hers involuntarily, however and his body reacted again.

“I cooked,” Burke said. “You clean up.”

He pushed his chair back from the table, got to his feet and left the cabin.

Imposter: Chapter Eight

Eve watched him go. Clearly, he was angry. But about what? She felt her own temper spark. She’d had every intention of cleaning up after the meal. But if he thought he could take advantage of their situation and issue an order for kitchen duty, he could think again.

She finished the meal, which was excellent, washed her own plate and mug and set them on the drainer. She needed her insulin, a shower and then she’d feel better.

A few moments later, Eve stepped under the hot spray. Leaning against the shower stall, she stood unmoving, letting the water sluice down her skin and ease the tension from her body. She tried to clear her mind of the last forty eight hours. Was that all it had been? Since Richard’s death. Since she’d learned she was suspected of terrorism. Since two attempts had been made on her own life. So much had happened and in such a short time. She prayed that the next forty eight hours would see this mess resolved and her life restored.

When she entered the living and dining room area, she saw that Burke hadn’t come back inside. She was alone.

She rubbed her temples where a headache was building. Burke wanted her to sit idle and let the CIA find out who was behind the attempts on her life. She could not believe that her assassin was Allie. Who then? It went against her nature to sit back and wait for Burke’s associates to find the one trying to kill her. But just what was she going to do and from here?

Burke’s laptop was on the coffee table. Normally, she’d ask his permission to use his computer, but she ignored what she would normally do—this was hardly a normal situation—and went to the couch.

The blanket, pillow, and sheet he’d used were heaped against one arm of the sofa. Eve sat on the center cushion and booted up the laptop. It was likely that Burke had the system password protected, but she had to try to get in.

She needed a list of the conference attendees. It was a logical place to start to try to find the person who’d switched her insulin. Burke may have all of that on his system. She and Richard had registered for the conference weeks ago and it was likely that Burke would have a record of that. He would have compiled a list of the chemists attending all of the lectures and events she and Richard were scheduled to attend. If she’d been working this case, she would have gathered that information. Someone attending the Abernathy lecture could be the accomplice and the accomplice could be the one who accessed her purse and switched her insulin.

As she’d suspected, Burke’s system was password protected. She was no hacker and had only a rudimentary knowledge of how computers worked. What would Burke use as a password? She knew nothing about the man that would provide a clue. Not even his birthday. She was finished before she’d started. There was no help for it. She was just going to have to ask him.

She was about push off the couch and go in search of him when Burke entered the cabin. Their gazes locked. He didn’t look particularly angry at finding her at his laptop. In fact, he would have walked right by her, out of the common living space, but she spoke.

“I need access to your system. I need a list of the chemists who attended the Abernathy lecture with us. That person may be the one behind the attempts on my life.”

“We’ve been through this. You don’t need to do anything at the moment except lay low.”

“This is my life. My freedom. No one cares as much about it as I do. No one will fight as hard as I will.” When Burke didn’t respond, she added. “Okay, then, I want to go to Washington. If you’re not going to do anything to find the guilty party now, I don’t need to be here. I want to hire a lawyer and a private investigator to work on my case. We’re just wasting time here. The longer we wait, the colder the trail will get.”