Zach's Law (7 page)

It was stillness that woke her. Stillness inside of her. The emotions that had scratched and clawed to escape were quiet now, waiting for … something. She could still feel them, but what had battered before stroked gently now. As if a storm had passed, leaving quiet and peace in its wake.

No, she thought, not quite peace. She was just in the eye of the hurricane, that was all.

She sat up slowly, pushing the pillow away, realizing that she had held it so fiercely in sleep that her arms and shoulders ached. She stretched stiffly, feeling tired, looking at Zach where he sat at the table and watched her silently.

She glanced at the equipment, murmuring, “You aren’t listening anymore.”

“The tapes are voice-activated,” he said. “I won’t miss anything.” And then he frowned, staring at her curiously pale face and wondering what it was about her casual questions that
pulled things from him with such effortless ease. It was a fleeting concern, however; he was worried about her.

Teddy misread the frown. “Oh, I don’t care what you’re doing up here, Zach,” she said wearily. “I probably know, anyway. Not why, maybe, but certainly what. There’s a house through the woods, near where my car died, and you’ve got it bugged. I heard an engine in the distance just before you went out. You knew they were gone and you went out there to check on something. Okay? If somebody pulls out my fingernails, that’s all I could tell them.”

“It’s serious, Teddy,” he said, a little harshly. “And damned dangerous.”

“Right,” she murmured, pulling the rubber band from her hair to free the ponytail. “Stolen gems and art treasures, I’d guess. I don’t know why they’d be way up here. Because it’s unlikely, I suppose. Because that house out there is a conduit, maybe, passing the stuff through to somewhere else.”

Zach gazed at her for a long moment, bothered
by this new, vulnerable mood of hers. Bothered by the way she had slept, hugging the pillow with a kind of desperation. And he was also disturbed because she didn’t seem to grasp the danger of this, and that could get her killed. He didn’t like what he felt at the thought of her being in real danger.

“You’ve got part of it,” he admitted suddenly. “Gems and artwork stolen recently are finding their way to that house. But if that were the only thing, the police could move in now.”

“And you suspect there’s a good deal more to it.” She leaned back against the wall, watching him and very aware of the dull ache of need inside her. The storm …

“Yes. The valuables in the house have been carefully acquired and are intended to be used in barter.”

“For what?”

“Guns.”

Teddy frowned. “You mean that the people in the house gather up a bunch of priceless art
and jewelry and then trade them to somebody for weapons?”

“That’s what I mean.”

“But why? How?”

“Those are the questions I’m up here to answer. The best guess for ‘why’ is that they’re going to turn around and sell the guns to needy armies in Third World countries—or terrorists. Or maybe that’s what they are themselves. We don’t have any guess at all for ‘how,’ but since it’s not all that easy to get large shipments of weapons out of this country, it’s a safe bet that somebody official is being well paid to turn a blind eye.”

She stared at him wonderingly. “But who would be able to get a shipment that big into the country in the first place?”

Zach wondered fleetingly how long it had been since he himself might have asked that innocent question. Years. A lifetime. He sighed a little. “Anybody with enough money and the right connections. In this case, we think there are two men, both very wealthy and as pure as
the driven snow. Each is a collector of rare artwork and gems, with private vaults built expressly for everything not acquired legitimately. They covet art and don’t give a sweet damn how they get it.”

After a moment she said slowly, “So you’re up here to trace the—route? Where the artwork goes from here, who gets it, and how the guns get out of the country?”

“That’s it, roughly. The valuables are stolen by a well-organized ring of thieves; Interpol has them pegged but is waiting for us to get this end of the mess nailed down. A professional courtesy. We know how the stuff gets this far. Another—someone else is working on the matter of how so many arms are being sold to private citizens.”

“Another agent,” she murmured.

Zach hesitated, then said firmly, “I’m temporary. Paying back a favor, you might say.”

“I see. No badge.”

“Not officially, no.”

Teddy nodded. “So, you’re going to follow the artwork when it’s shipped out?”

“That’s the plan. I’ve had the place bugged hoping to hear something interesting about how the trade will be made, but so far there’s been nothing. They’re waiting for a few more things to arrive before the stuff is moved.”

“Do you know where the shipment of arms is?”

“We know. And somebody will be watching carefully to see how it’s taken out of the country. Needless to say, the guns will never reach their destination.”

After a moment he said, “Sheer luck that we found a trail to follow. People who steal artwork don’t usually involve themselves with arms—and vice versa. But we know this is one organization: the thieves and the men who trade the valuables for arms. We also know they’ve completed trades successfully in the past.”

Teddy looked at him, conscious of the stillness that remained. It encased her, as protective
as a blanket of peace. But she could feel the storm. Waiting. Swirling all around her. The threat of it was the promise of that terrible need. That aching anguish that she could feel now only dully.

“Why tell me this now?” she asked finally, quietly.

His mouth firmed, and a muscle tightened in his jaw. “I said we knew they’d been successful before. They’ve also killed. Coldly and with utter businesslike professionalism. They don’t leave loose ends dangling, Teddy. They’re killers, pure and simple. I wanted you to know that, to believe that. Every hour they remain in the house increases the chance that somebody’ll find one of the bugs. And if they do, they’ll start looking. For us.”

She thought about that. They were close enough, she knew, to be easily found. She wasn’t frightened by that, though, because Zach was here; with danger threatening, he was an immensely comforting man, and she knew
without even thinking about it that he would take care of her, protect her.

Oddly enough, her only reaction to Zach’s disclosure of his lawful, if unofficial, reason for being here was a mental
Well, of course
. Some inner part of her had never believed he was here for a nefarious purpose.

Teddy listened to the distant thunder of her inner storm and wondered how long she could hold it at bay. Not long. Not long at all. And her mind methodically considered the sequence of events that measured the time left to her.

“I see. So when the artwork is shipped out, you’ll follow?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you didn’t have a car up here.”

“I don’t. I have a Jeep.”

She considered berating him for splitting hairs earlier but dismissed it as unimportant. “Oh. And you’ll drop me off somewhere along the way?”

His mouth firmed again. “I’ll put you on a
plane to your sister. And I’ll see to it that there’s a replacement for your car waiting for you.”

Teddy looked at him, feeling tired, feeling too many other things. “Remember the Alamo,” she murmured.

“What?”

She was really too tired to fight him, to fight his mistaken belief—and it had to be that—that she was being overwhelmed by the unusual circumstances surrounding them. That she was being seduced by those circumstances, rather than by him. Too tired. But she didn’t have a choice.

“I’m a sucker for lost causes,” she said, clarifying nothing except to herself.

“Teddy, what are you talking about?” he asked with vast patience.

She held the storm at bay. “Some women are stupid,” she said. “That doesn’t mean we all are. Some women can be deceived by their own emotions but that doesn’t mean we all can be.”

He knew what she was talking about now,
and his face closed down into remoteness. In a flat, decisive tone he said, “You haven’t been listening to me. This is a dangerous situation, and you will be out of it just as soon as possible.”

And out of my life
.

Teddy rolled the dice and watched to see how they landed. “I love you, Zach.”

His head moved faintly, an uncontrolled and unconscious gesture of negation. “No. This time yesterday you didn’t even know me.”

She laughed softly, almost without being aware of it. “Yes. But things always happen fast in my life. I should have expected love to be no different.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” he told her flatly.

It would not be a good time to prove that she did indeed know a great deal about him; it would be too difficult to explain just now. Instead, she shrugged. “That doesn’t seem to matter.”

“It should matter. It would—if we were somewhere else.”

Teddy shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. I know what I feel.”

His eyes narrowed, and his entire body looked taut. In a voice that was harsh he said, “Then know you’ll get over it. Know it won’t last the time it’ll take to get down off this mountain. Know that, Teddy.”

It was
my
own stupid fault, and I won’t let it happen again
.

She fought a rising despair, wondering how she could convince him. And then she knew that only time would convince him—if she were granted that time and the ability to use it—and the storm pushed inward to remind her of the anguish of uncertainty and waiting. She could literally feel herself pale, and she saw his hard eyes flicker.

“What if I don’t get over it?” she asked.

“You will.” He swore suddenly, harshly. “Don’t look at me like that!”

Teddy dropped her gaze to focus on her knees. Instinct told her that no amount of arguing with Zach would help. Not here, at least,
and not now. And the only avenue left open to her was the disturbing, painful one leading to the storm she felt … and which he felt at least partially. She wanted him; he wanted her. That was all she had.

“All right,” she said softly. “Let’s assume for the sake of argument that I’ll get over it. Maybe you’re right and I will.” Every word was a stab, but she bore the pain. “Still, neither of us can deny that we want each other. And there’s no risk of pregnancy.”

“There’s always a risk,” he said, interrupting curtly.

She looked at him then, and in her eyes was the pain of someone who loved children and knew only too well that she would be lucky indeed to have even one of her own. “No risk,” she repeated softly. “It took my parents ten years to get me, and Jenny was nothing less than a miracle—the doctor said so. Jenny’s miscarried twice, and my doctor tells me I’ll be lucky if I get even that far.”

She squared her shoulders and met his unreadable
eyes with a bedrock certainty in her own. “Everyone has their own beliefs and their own right to them, and I would never judge them by my own standards. But there is one thing you have to know, Zach, one thing you can be certain of. If, by some incredible bit of luck, I managed to conceive, there wouldn’t be an abortion. That’s something I could never do.”

He looked away first, jerkily, something hot and a little wild flickering suddenly in his eyes. “All the more reason,” he said roughly.

She drew a deep, shuddering breath. “Then you won’t make love to me?”

“No.” It was a bitten-out sound.

Teddy felt the surge of the storm and chewed her lip briefly. No pride. Dammit, it even stole pride. But that was only a fleeting realization, a distant pain.

She had rolled the dice and lost. But she wasn’t finished. She would gamble everything she had, keep rolling the dice until there was nothing left.

She looked at her watch, struggling to bring
it into focus and absently realizing that she’d slept for several hours. “Those men are still gone?”

For a moment Zach seemed startled, as if he’d braced himself for argument, for persuasion. “Yes,” he said finally, sending her an oblique glance.

Teddy slid off the cot, straightening her clothes with automatic movements. She was aware of his eyes following her, and strove to keep her face calm. But behind the facade she was thinking with a clarity born of need.

He wouldn’t believe her, wouldn’t
let
himself believe her. All right, then. So be it. If she couldn’t convince his stubborn mind, she’d work on other parts of him. Somehow. The big, tough body that she knew wanted hers. And the heart she was sure lay hidden deep within him, encased in the protective metallic armor of a warrior.

She wondered if the Gypsy had fought for her Scot and thought that she probably had.

Teddy wished she had seen just a bit more of
that final image, wished she could be
sure
. But how often was certainty of the future given to mortals?

Silent and at least outwardly calm, she began preparing an evening meal for them.

S
ARAH
L
EWIS WAS
a familiar sight in the building housing Long Enterprises, and she knew her way around quite well. Greetings followed her as she made her way up to the fifteenth floor, where she expected to find her husband despite the fact that his own suite of offices was two floors up. She hardly needed an identification badge to gain access to the security-conscious fifteenth, but she wore one nevertheless—and the security guard at the desk near the elevator didn’t even glance at it.

“Morning, Mrs. Lewis.”

“Hi, Phil.” Her voice was soft and a bit shy, and the guard looked with pleasure at her bright hair and serene eyes.

While she signed the register he asked how Junior was doing on this fine morning, and the glow in her eyes seemed to intensify even as she laughed.

“Fine, thanks.” She patted her rounded stomach, over which a gay yellow sign imprinted on her terrycloth shirt proclaimed the presence of a baby on board. “Rafferty’s here, isn’t he?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am. In Mr. Kendrick’s office.”

Sarah waved her thanks and went on down the hall. She could hear the steady humming of computers in the offices she passed, but didn’t pause until she reached a corner office. The door was open, and she went in, saying as a greeting, “We’re going to have to name him Junior; everybody expects it.”