Virtually Hers (24 page)

Flyboy scowled. “Give me the file. But that doesn’t mean I’m dropping the Stealth discussion, Rukh. Even if I have to fight you with a sword for it.”

“That’d be a stupid bet,” Shahrukh said, white teeth showing.

Helen couldn’t help grinning. Testosterone overload was so fun to watch.

T. winked at her and rolled her eyes.

“Alex, I know your plate’s already full with Maximillian Shoggi. I think we need to talk about setting him up with the decoder. Thanks to us, he’s already lost out on several important weapon bids. He’s a very hungry arms dealer at the moment.”

Alex’s eyes glittered. “That’d be a pleasure.” He turned to T. “Time to get back into your Tasha skin, isn’t it? Mad Max thinks you’re his link to me.”

T. tapped her fingers on the table before turning to Jed. “Evil.” She examined her nails. “I think I should be the one going after the Stealth parts.”

Helen watched with growing amusement when both Alex and Jed didn’t spare her a glance, as if the whole thing was settled. That was so not the way to get T. to cooperate.

“Armando,” Jed said, his gaze catching Helen’s. She saw the knowing gleam there. “You’re going to go undercover at the same place where that remote viewer is. It’s a place called Stratter’s Pointe.”

“What, a quest for which no one will fight me?” Armando asked sardonically.

His mask of bored attentiveness was back in place. Helen hid her smirk. That earlier outburst, though, had already betrayed him. Armando was more eager than he let on. His explanation about the pain disappearing made her question her own reaction to “crashing” into the remote viewer. She’d like to ask him later if he’d felt the odd sensation when it’d happened. Another question occurred. How were Armando’s bouts with pain connected to her own unique reaction? Using the chemical imbalance theory, she’d been sexually deprived the last few years, and her body overcompensated, so what was Armando’s “chemical” problem?

When no one answered him, Armando continued, in a faux accent, “No send the Asian to no exotic places? No illusion with simulation? No rescuing the maiden in a locked box? I get…a prison ward?”

“It’s not just any prison ward. A section of Stratter’s Pointe is for political prisoners, which your background would suit nicely. If they check, they’ll see that you’re connected to the Triads. The other section of Stratter’s is actually something you’ll find interesting.” Jed pushed a file toward his direction. “I was once there, a long time ago, and I met a few people who helped give me some direction. Read up on this place and we’ll talk about your next assignment.”

Smooth. So smooth. Helen knew exactly what he was doing. It was NOPAIN at its best, manipulation without force. She recalled Jed saying something about him convalescing at that place, but the old photograph on the wall showed him so young. What could he have been recovering from at that age? Stratter’s Pointe didn’t look like a hospital, although it felt like a medical place in that new wing. Another reason to get to talk to Armando privately. She wanted to look at that file sitting in front of him.

“Political prisoners—like someone who was a captured operative?” Helen asked. She wanted to draw T.’s attention to it. There was so much about this man she didn’t know and she didn’t think he was going to volunteer more information than necessary. She wanted more from him. “What did you do when you were there?”

There was one of those pauses before he answered. She could feel him withdrawing into himself. He was a hard man to read, with that impassive expression honed, no doubt, from years of sidestepping and evading direct questions.

“Stratter’s Pointe was actually my first U.S. home,” Jed finally said. “I was at a military hospital healing from some wounds before that and was brought to Stratter’s for the rest of my therapy. It was a state medical facility for those injured during active duty who needed a place to disappear to after emergency hospitalization. It still is, but I suppose it’s expanded its use. Since Armando has been using the SYMBIOS 2 serum, he’s somewhat familiar with the drug. I’m suspecting they’re experimenting with similar serums with their remote viewers, and putting our own man inside can find out more.” He turned, the intensity in those silver eyes pinning. “You and Armando have bouts of pain. This man too. I think it’s all connected. Once we figure out why, we can understand more about these ‘psychic crashes’, Armando called them.”

It was disconcerting how he echoed her own thoughts. Every time she tried to corner him, get him defensive, he’d surprise her by giving in to her. She really hated that.

“Then not send me in there?” Helen asked, knowing the answer, but she was spoiling for a fight. “What will I be doing?”

The way he kept looking at her made her feel like one of those caught butterflies about to be put in a relaxing jar. Couldn’t fly away. Going to be pinned. Her heart was thudding even though she knew nothing was showing on her face. At least, she hoped not.

“You’re coming with me to the summit, of course, supersoldier-spy. But only if you take the mandatory rest after an RV session. That means no strenuous activity, Hell, for the next two days while prep work’s being done. Go home.”

Those were fighting words. If she weren’t feeling ridiculously pleased with having one-upped him by attending the debriefing, she’d have blown a gasket. But he’d given her some answers, even handed her the reins for a little while, and dammit, she was actually beginning to get why he was acting this way.

It was Jed McNeil’s way of saying he was sorry for what he did last night.

“Okay. But I think I should be the one to retrieve the Stealth parts, boys. Pakistan and Kurds? I bet they’re into female commandos.”

Quiet chuckles rumbled around the table. She’d surprised all the men with her apparent meekness. After all, they all had big assignments, and she was given nothing. She batted her eyes innocently. She doubted they were buying her act.

“Prepare for the Summit in Skopje with Number Eight. Something’s going down there, and of course, I’d want a well-rested supersoldier-spy there with me as my companion.”

Did every woman react to him like she did? Because that sounded very sexy to her ears. And she wasn’t going
off
the damn serum yet, so why was she suddenly turned on at the thought of being with him as a stupid companion?

Chapter Seventeen

Lake Matka, Macedonia

Jed hadn’t kept in touch, wanting to give Elena space, while he looked over the last-minute details of the trip to Macedonia. He’d told Dr. Kirkland to hold the brainwave experiments for the next few days.

He already knew she’d reported another migraine two days ago, after she went home. Dr. Kirkland had talked to her via videophone. She didn’t want any painkillers. He didn’t blame her; he wouldn’t want any more drugs in his system either. Even while he made several phone calls, his mind had been on her, wondering whether she was truly resting, or not. He knew that Flyboy had asked her out to dinner. Jed’d had to fly ahead to Europe and didn’t know whether she’d accepted the date.

Why would it bother him if she did? From watching their interactions—with their in-jokes and flirtations—Jed had an idea how well the two of them got along. It was only logical; Flyboy was closer to Helen’s age than he was, and no doubt, more fun to be around.

He impatiently waved at nothing in particular. He couldn’t let his mind wander away every time something reminded him of her. She would be here soon enough. By his side. Where she belonged.

That last sentence slithered into Jed’s consciousness and sat there a half-second, like a deadly snake watching its prey before it struck.
Where she belonged.
It was a clichéd statement, one that came naturally with the claim before it. It was something he didn’t think he’d ever uttered, even to himself. The shock of it made him pause in the middle of tying the shoelaces on his hiking boots.

He had practically grown up alone. Having someone by his side had never been an option, not even when he’d found his daughter and brought her into his life. He protected those he loved and cared for with the knowledge that distance—physical and emotional—was the best policy.

What he was, what he did for a living, wasn’t exactly conducive to open relationships. His daughter was the only person who had the innate ability to understand this, who had given him what he asked for and no more. He hadn’t hidden what he was ever since she was old enough to ask questions. Grace was different, anyhow. Running around with her mother for a couple years had robbed her of any sweet innocence. By the time they’d met, his little girl had already developed an instinct honed from having spent too much time around danger and dangerous people. He’d recognized it immediately because he still remembered what it was like growing up in Dublin.

He finished tying the laces and straightened up. Through the years, emotional distance had cost him relationships, some of which he regretted ending. But one couldn’t take a life one night and talk about normal things the next. Unlike his daughter, much as his companions knew this as part of his job, in the end, they were unable to live with it. He’d accepted it. He wasn’t in a position to change, not without causing major havoc. A part of him also acknowledged that as an excuse.

And here he was, wanting a woman by his side, during a mission that was usually a one-man operation. Where was the total focus, the absolute separation from all things emotional? Intimate words like “where she belonged” didn’t exist at a time like this.

“Elena Ekaterina Rostova,” he rolled her name—the one he preferred—off his tongue softly, “you’ve invaded my waking life too, it seems.”

The hike up the side of the steep path helped his concentration. Half an hour away from Skopje, Lake Matka was the perfect spot for a private meeting during the week, when visitors were few. And if an accidental death did occur, it wouldn’t make the news as one might if it happened in Skopje, where the international media was starting to gather.

The old monastery was deserted at this hour. He turned left, and then another left, heading toward the furthest window, which was so old and stained, one couldn’t look outside. He sat on the bench under the old tapestry, waiting in the shadows.

Fifteen minutes passed before he heard footsteps. He’d begun to wonder whether anyone would show up. Sometimes they didn’t come. Sometimes they ran away. He sat, waited, and watched the man skulking down the passageway, coming toward the opaquely lit area. He sat on the other side of the bench.

“I do not like being kept waiting,” Jed said, affecting the slight accent Europeans had when they spoke English.

“Hiking in the early morning is not easy for me,” the man said, rubbing his hands hard. “Are you sure we’re alone?”

“We are safe,” Jed said. “Do you have the package, Dimitri?”

Dimitri put his hand inside his long coat, then became very still when he realized Jed was already standing behind him, one warning hand on his shoulder.

“No, no gun, Stefan. I have the package inside my coat pocket. Feel it yourself.”

“Take it out slowly and hand it over your shoulder.” When he complied, Jed took it with his free hand. His hand didn’t leave the other man’s shoulder. “Do you know why your boss sent you to pass this information to me?”

He could feel Dimitri trembling. The man wasn’t a fool. He knew.

“I’m his most trusted man,” Dimitri said, his voice a little high pitched.

“I almost believe you,” Jed murmured. “Do you know, though, he has a habit of sending me people he wants to get rid of? It’s a business arrangement. He gives me what I want, and I dispense with what he does not want.”

“If I believed that, I would not be here, would I?” Dimitri asked, this time unable to hide his nervousness. “I did not run. I came here, just as I was told, and delivered the package.”

“Yes. A trained mouse follows the maze over and over, looking for its reward. You knew they would find you anyway, so you did everything exactly as you were told to get a reprieve.”

“I also have the hope that you want some useful answers, Stefan.”

“And there is that.” Jed counted a beat of two. “Tell me, Dimitri, I’m assuming that you are a clever curious mouse. What is in the package?”

“Deutsche International’s contact that gave them the SEED decoder. The minutes of the last private meeting. I assure you, D.I. just wants world peace. Why do you think we have so many famous politicians and people funding it?”

The last bit was delivered with sarcasm. Deutsche International’s front as a world forum to find answers to political strife had drawn quite a unique following consisting of some of the wealthiest and most well-known people in the world—one happy union of politicians, rock stars, peaceniks, intellectuals, geniuses, actors. A think-tank for change. But underneath it all, a market place, as all such places usually became.

“Now tell me,” Jed said, “what is not in the package?”

“They are in contact with a man named Gunther. I don’t know who he is but I do know he wields a lot of power behind the old guard.”

“The old guard,” Jed repeated slowly. “As in the Old Guard from the Soviet system?”

“There is only one old guard. Gunther promised D.I. the support of many noted politicians for a new peace movement if his terms were met.” There was a pause. “One of these terms has to do with the coming Skopje Summit.”

“Something is about to happen,” Jed said. “What?”

“That I do not know, but there is an agreement, that D.I. will not unleash its usual verbal attack and crowd disorders, at least not in a meaningful way, once it is over.”

“I want something more substantial than that, Dimitri,” Jed said icily. “It is your life, after all. Vagueness does not please me.”

Jed felt Dimitri tremble again at the quiet menace in his voice as the latter tried to decide whether to talk more or bargain. The man’s breathing was erratic and Jed knew the outcome even before he spoke. It wasn’t unexpected. Fear for one’s life was always conducive to loosen a stubborn tongue.

“I really do not know.” Dimitri squeaked as Jed applied slight pressure on his shoulder. The words came out faster. “It is big. The politicians will be affected. Stefan, I have been kept out of their loop in this matter. Please. All I know is…it has to do with the summit itself, the agenda, and D.I. will somehow benefit afterwards. You have everything I know—Gunther and D.I.’s involvement. Please!”

It was time to finish his end of the bargain. The silence stretched as Dimitri sat there, seemingly frozen in fear. He had nowhere to run to anyway. He had known, coming here, that this was his last courier stop.

Jed looked up. Morning light was filtering into the monastery.

“What did you do?” he finally asked. He’d never asked before. It complicated matters to get personal.

“It was stupid, okay? I slept with the boss’s wife. And then one day, he came home early with someone I shouldn’t have seen.”

Jed blinked. Wasn’t he just thinking about emotional distance? That the inability to do so led to one’s downfall?

“Was it worth it? The sex?” he mused aloud.

Dimitri shrugged. “She was a lonely woman. Look, I was not thinking. Are you going to kill me or not? It is not right, sitting here in a place like this, talking calmly about sex and women when my life is at stake.”

Jed cracked a smile at that bit of bravado. He looked down at the top of the man’s head. From where he stood, it would be a simple matter to break his neck, a swift and relatively clean way to cancel a life.

He dropped his hand. “Go,” he ordered quietly.

Dimitri stiffened. He jumped to his feet and whirled around to stare at Jed.

“Just like that? Do you not want to know who I saw?”

Jed studied the shadowy face, the panic receding just a little. “Keep something for a later bargain with me, Dimitri. I might not feel so generous in the future.” He cocked a brow. “Now, before I change my mind…”

The man didn’t need a second prompting. Without another word, he turned, stumbled, then ran.

Helen took in a deep breath. The chilly air helped clear her head. She took a long look at the lone figure standing at the edge of the cliff, the magnificent scenery of the morning sunlight dappling the wintry mountainside and the ice-tipped lake emphasizing his dangerous aloofness. He had his back to her, seemingly absorbed in the view, but she knew better. He was certainly as aware of her presence here as he had been back at the monastery.

He looked terribly alone, like an ancient conqueror surveying his land. A ridiculous thought, since Jed McNeil was in faded jeans and battered jacket.
But that was beside the point, wasn’t it, Hell?
Jed McNeil in any kind of clothing, speaking in that emotionless tone of voice, was the scariest thing she’d seen and heard in a long time.

He turned. And gestured imperiously. Helen approached cautiously. One did that at the sight of a hungry predator.

He stood as still as the waters below as she studied him. It dawned on her that he was waiting for her to make the first move, to show her reaction.

After all, he’d looked directly at her in the darkened monastery, a piercing stare that had jolted her out of the mesmerizing sight of Number Nine in action.

As usual, her foolhardiness took over. “Should I curtsey? Your Lordship commanded my presence at Lake Matka a day early and here I am.”

The corner of his lips lifted. His silver eyes, though, still held that disquieting menace. “You didn’t come at the specified time.”

Helen canted her brows. “No pleasing Your Lordship, is there?” She thumbed toward the trail from which she’d just came. “Back there, you complained about a man being late, and here, you aren’t happy that I’m early.” When he didn’t say anything, just stood there looking at her, she sighed, and added, “Okay, you said noon. Perhaps you didn’t want me around when you were doing your job, but I didn’t know you had an assignment this early. I would have sat in there waiting for noon but seeing that you knew I was already hiding in there, I figured you wouldn’t mind me interrupting your morning walk.”

She hadn’t actually come out immediately. A man on the verge of violence was better left alone for as long as possible. But damn, it was cold sitting in that monastery, not doing anything.

Jed turned from her again. The view appeared more interesting to him than her presence. Her instincts were telling her that this man was literally at the very edge, that if she wasn’t careful, he might turn and devour her. Yet, she didn’t feel afraid of him at all. She took the last few steps so she could stand beside him.

“Tell me, Number Nine,” she began casually, trying to push away the image of herself putting her head inside a lion’s mouth, “why didn’t you finish the job?”

He slanted a glance in her direction, the lightness in his eyes catching the sunlight—a flash of silver heat—and then he looked away again.

“I know what your job entails,” Helen continued, ignoring another mental image of herself offering honey to a hungry bear. What could she say? She was curious. “Back there, I know what you were going to do. Yet you didn’t. You looked straight up where I was and I felt you changing your mind. You gave that man a reprieve, something I’d bet my entire hat collection that you seldom, if ever, do. Why, Jed?”

There. If he turned and growled at her, she would retreat and leave him alone. The silence went on for so long, she began to wonder whether he was just going to ignore her till noon.

“I didn’t want to start our day with your seeing me take a life.” He turned and met her shocked eyes. “I didn’t want our first date to begin with death.”

Helen put her hand on her chest. The world just stopped spinning. “Our. First. Date?”

“Yes, our first date,” Jed reiterated calmly. “It was supposed to start here at noon. Not at the monastery where you were hiding, spying on me. You were thinking of catching a glimpse of the real me. Are you sure you did?”

“Our first date?” Helen asked again, ignoring the rest of what he said. “I thought I was here to be part of the team casing the summit.”

“In Skopje,” Jed affirmed. “You’re here at Lake Matka to be with me.”

“You didn’t ask, so it isn’t a date,” she declared.

Jed laughed. She stood there in amazement as she watched him throw back his head and real, teeth-baring, amusement-filled male laughter echoed around her. It was a low, attractive sound, the kind that made a woman feel all glowy and appreciated inside. That murderous glint in his eyes had disappeared, replaced by an intent that was pretty blatant in its meaning, at least, from where she was standing. She realized he had dropped that mantle of aloofness behind which he always hid.