In the Dark (18 page)

Luther eased into the armchair, grateful to be off his feet. As Hannah relayed how her colleague's death had led her to discovering Commander Lovitt's crimes, Luther drew deep, steadying breaths, pushing back the pain. Imposing mind over matter required most of his concentration, so that he absorbed only snatches of the conversation.

He was aware of Westy sitting silently on Hannah's right side, watching Newman closely, flicking Luther an occasional glance.

"So what do you think?" Hannah said when she'd concluded her story.

Newman laced his fingers together, giving her a troubled look. "Bill Westmoreland has always taken a radical approach when it comes to influencing governments abroad. It doesn't surprise me one bit that; he's been meddling with the inner dynamics of other-countries. What troubles me is that he's taken notice of you."

"Exactly. Why me?" Hannah wanted to know.

Newman shook his head. "I only know that he was jealous of your father's popularity, something he's never managed to gain for himself."

"But that doesn't explain why he'd want to get rid of me. Unless he was simply doing Lovitt a favor."

"Perhaps that's it," the director answered, looking satisfied with the explanation. "Dear heart, I hope you
have
second thoughts about returning to an organization that-has betrayed you," he professed with feeling.

"One man doesn't make the whole organization corrupt, Uncle Caleb," Hannah argued. "I still plan to go back."

His hazel eyes darkened with disappointment. "Well, if that's your decision. You never promised me forever," he said sadly. "How is Kevin?" he asked, switching topics abruptly.

"He's fine. I spoke with him just today. He's nearly finished with his dissertation."

'Time to talk that boy into joining my agency" Newman said. "Have I got a job for him!" he added, pleasure bringing a sparkle to his eyes.

The conversation took a new turn when Hannah confessed that her Mustang was completely totaled.

"I'll buy you a new one," Newman promised. "Bright red this time, with a convertible top."

"Uncle Caleb," she chided, "you're not going to convince me to stay that way."

His eager countenance dimmed. "You can see straight through me," he lamented. "We'll talk more about this later. I can see Lieutenant Lindstrom isn't feeling well. But in the meantime, dear heart, if you wouldn't mind too much, it would put me at ease to assign my own bodyguards to watch you."

Hannah glanced uncomfortably at Luther and Westy. "Oh, you don't have to do that, Uncle Caleb. I'm going to stay with the SEALs awhile to help them get a colleague out of trouble. Their commander killed Ernie," she reminded her godfather.

Newman gave her a long, pitying look. "I understand," he said finally. "By all means, help these gentlemen out. But if you could just humor me in this instance, you won't even notice my men," he promised. "They supply their own housing in the form of a Winnebago."

"Thank you," Luther said before Hannah could protest again. He, like Newman, didn't believe that just because Westmoreland was in custody, Hannah was safe. Valentino had warned him to stay vigilant.

"All right, Uncle Caleb, if it makes you feel better," Hannah agreed, coming to the edge of her chair.

"Where are you headed now, dear?" the director asked, even as he scribbled a note on a yellow Post-it.

"I think we'll stop by my town house so that Luther can rest," she decided.

This was news to Luther but he didn't have it in him to protest. Besides, he was curious to see where Hannah lived.

Newman's curious gaze flickered over Luther as he reached for a pen. There were two names written on the Post-it that he handed to Hannah. "Give these names to Irma," he instructed. "Galworth and Stone will be waiting
in the parking lot. You can't miss them."

Hannah leaned over the desk and kissed Newman's cheek as she took the note from him. "Thanks for caring,” she murmured.

He clung to the note an extra second. "You mean the world to me, dear heart," he said quietly. "Please be careful."

"I will. I promise."

Luther struggled out of the chair before Hannah made him look completely useless by helping him.

"Thank you again," Newman called as they headed for the door. Luther lifted a hand in farewell.

"Can you make it to my office?" Hannah asked, sidling around him.

"I think so."

She looped her arm through his, just like before, handing Newman's Post-it to Irma as she led him to the elevator.

On the third floor, they disembarked. Hannah led them down a hallway buzzing with activity. The entire floor was dissected into cubicles. As they passed each one, Luther saw analyst after analyst typing away on keyboards, copying information, sorting through files. No wonder Hannah couldn't wait to leave her job here. This was definitely not the place for her.

"Here we are," she said, pausing at a cubicle near the end of the hallway. "See how Ernie's half has been cleared out?"

"By men in suits," Luther recalled, sweating copiously from the trek to her office.

"I was afraid to ask who they were," she confessed.

"I had a feeling they didn't want Ernie's findings to go any farther." She paused by her fax machine and powered it on. It gave a series of beeps and whirrs and started spitting out paper.

Luther watched her, curious to see why her fax machine was needed.

"I faxed myself a copy of Ernie's notebook. It's been in the memory all this time."

"Good thinking," he said, pleased by her cleverness but not really too surprised.

"The copy that I used to fax it went into the paper shredder," Hannah added, patting that appliance. "When Valentino's people searched my office, all they would have found was the shredded copy."

"Time to go," said Westy, sounding edgy.

Luther glanced his way. With his eyes, Westy indicated for Luther to look up. He did, scanning the ceiling until he saw what Westy saw: the eye of a camera nestled inconspicuously in the ceiling tile overhead. "All set, Hannah?" Luther asked. The camera in the ceiling didn't bother him as much as it bothered Westy. So what if Newman was watching them? It was obvious he had Hannah's best interests at heart, offering his own bodyguards to give her added protection. With four pairs of eyes watching over her, and with the Individual in Valentino's custody, Hannah was probably safer than she'd ever be again.

Alexandria, Virginia
28 September ~ 18:26 EST

Hannah had given up her bedroom so Luther could rest. That was several hours ago, when she'd escorted a pale-faced Luther up the stairs of her town house, ordering him to sleep.

A strange feeling came over her as she checked on him at suppertime, bearing his dinner on a tray. She found him fast asleep, sprawled diagonally across her bed, so he wouldn't jam his toes against her footboard. The old wood flooring in her Alexandria town home creaked beneath her feet as she rounded the bed to look down at him.

He'd slept from early afternoon until twilight The evening sun cast a burnished glow on the window shade, gilding the violet comforter. In contrast to the pale purple sheets, Luther struck her as starkly masculine, making her heart beat erratically. She wasn't used to seeing a man in her bed.

She was glad to note that the lines of pain were gone from the corners of his mouth. He hadn't looked too good when she helped him get settled, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling his T-shirt over his head. But now, with several hours of sleep behind him and hundreds of milligrams of Tylenol in his system, he appeared to be pain-free.

The sun glow highlighted the strength of his cheekbones. She stood there, spellbound by his latent male beauty, cognizant of a fullness of feeling in her chest. If her hands weren't occupied holding the tray, she'd be tempted to stroke the soft sable strands of his hair.

Luther was incredible, in so many ways, taking a bullet for righteousness' sake, uncomplaining to the point of collapse. She respected and admired him. But that wasn't the reason she felt pleased to have him sprawled half naked in her bed. It didn't account for her possessive urge to keep him there.

It was time to face facts: she was drawn to Luther, emotionally and physically, whether she wanted to be or not. She hadn't planned on having feelings for a man until her career was under way and she could choose her assignments. Long-distance relationships were doomed. But pretending she didn't feel anything was an act of cowardice. She was going to face these feelings head-on, the way she faced everything. There had to be a way to handle them.

But was Luther as drawn to her as she was to him? She wasn't sure. He'd just ditched his last girlfriend—
-fiancee.
How could he even know what he was feeling?

Turning away to place the tray upon her bureau, she caught sight of her shadowed reflection in the mirror. She wasn't beautiful—not in the way that the sultry brunette, Veronica, was beautiful. She had flaming red hair and freckles. She was tall and strong. But at least she was wearing her own clothes again.

She tugged the tight-fitting, coral top over the edge of her hip-hugging jeans. She'd always prided herself on her flair for fashion. It came as a relief to look trendy again.

"Wow, you look different."

Luther's sleepy observation had her turning with a start, nearly upsetting the glass of ice water perched on the corner of the tray. "Oh, you're awake."

He was very awake. In his purple surroundings, his alert gaze looked more indigo than blue as he took leisurely stock of her. "Is this the real you?" he inquired with a half smile.

Hannah's stomach tightened with apprehension. "What do you think?" She held her hands out to her sides.

"You look young," he admitted, which caused her heart to drop. "And sexy," he added, causing it to leap up again.

"I, uh, brought you some dinner" she said, turning toward the tray. "I hope you like it. It's just SpaghettiOs with canned vegetables. I'm not much of a cook. Besides, all the food in my refrigerator went bad. Do you want to eat now? How's your back?"

She realized she was talking faster than he could answer and she shut her mouth with a snap.

"I'll eat now," he said, struggling to sit up. "My back feels better."

She longed to help, but that entailed touching him, which she didn't trust herself to do. It was hard enough not to stare. Her gaze slid helplessly to the elastic band of his boxers as her sensory memory reminded her of how incredibly he'd filled her hand.

She passed him the tray, ice rattling in the glass, betraying her unsteady nerves.

Their fingers brushed as Luther took it from her. "Thanks," he said.

"No problem. Can I get you anything else?"

"No, this is great." He picked up his fork and stirred the noodles.

"I'll come back when you're done, then," she said, finding it awkward to just stand there, watching him.

"You mind if I help myself to your bathroom?' he inquired. "I'd like to take a shower."

"Sure, no problem. But what about the bandage?" He wore a big gauze bandage on his back.

He forked down a bite. "It's coming off."

"Are you sure that's smart?"

"I've been shot before," he told her, reaching for the water. "The wound heals faster when it's dry."

He'd been shot before? Suddenly his job seemed unnecessarily dangerous. "Just don't reinjure yourself. There are extra towels over the toilet."
Would you like some help?

"I'll need you to put ointment on my back afterward."

She hadn't made that offer out loud, had she?

"Okay." She gripped the doorknob to keep a hold on reality. Luther was looking at her differently. There was heat in his gaze that hadn't been there earlier, except once before when she'd... "I'll be back in half an hour or so."

"Bye." He watched her leave, looking lonely on her queen-sized bed.

With anticipation winging through her, Hannah closed the door. She paused at the top of the landing. If Luther was actually flirting with her—which she was fairly certain

he was—was she going to take their friendship to the
next
level?

She'd be crazy not to. He was every woman's fantasy and she was no exception. Turning down the chance to be-with him, even if it led to nothing, was wasteful. Life was short. You had to take pleasures as they came.

With her mind made up, she descended the steps
on
knees that jittered.

Westy glanced up from the newspaper he was scowling, over. If Luther had looked out of place in Hannah's bed, Westy looked downright incongruous on her floral love, seat, surrounded by tea tables with lace doilies, a collection of Depression glass, and ceramic figurines.

Seeing her flushed face, a knowing little smile kicked up the corner of his mouth. "How's Sleeping Beauty?" he drawled.

"He looks better" she said matter-of-factly, crossing the room to get a dust rag from the kitchen.

Her town home had been searched by the FBI, who'd made minimal effort to set things back to rights. They couldn't have found anything to aid their investigation, but they'd certainly left a trail of destruction behind them.

Three weeks of absence hadn't helped any, either. A fine layer of dust coated her antique furniture and family heirlooms. Her potted herbs in the kitchen had wilted and died. And as she'd told Luther, half the goods in her refrigerator needed to be discarded.

Westy spoke from behind the newspaper. "Westmoreland denies the FBI's allegations," he related. "He's got a slew of people coming forward to defend him—senators, ambassadors, CEOs."

Hannah carried the damp rag to the dining-room buffet. "Well, of course he's going to deny that he's the Individual," she said, wiping the dusty surface. "What does the FBI expect, a confession?"

Westy grunted. "He wants to take a polygraph."

Hannah hesitated, then resumed her work. "I hope they don't let him go if he passes it. I've heard of guilty people passing lie detector tests."

Westy said nothing to that.

Hannah suffered a moment's misgiving. Surely Valentino had been thorough before making his arrest, but what if he'd arrested the wrong man? Then the Individual was still at large and Hannah's well-being was as much threatened now as it had been before.