Kitabı oku: «Heartbreak Hero», sayfa 3

He would know about breaking a tapu, and the curse it could bring down on a family. But would he believe that if her quest wasn’t successful then she only had six more weeks to live?

Ngaire didn’t know whether to be pleased or worried as she saw Kel approach. Her first reaction had been a slight lifting of her spirits at the sight of a face she knew, followed by the lead-weighted anxiety of wondering if Paul Savage had sent Kel to follow her. Yet, slow starter or not, he had tackled the thief.

A laugh, half hysterical, half foolish, forced its way through lips dry from talking her way out of a tense situation. It had made her see spooks where there couldn’t possibly be any.

It was hardly logical to blame Kel for her problems, yet she couldn’t rid herself of the feeling that everything in her world had been working perfectly until she’d laid eyes on him.

She turned her face away, pretending she hadn’t noticed him, hadn’t noticed the supple grace of his stride, or that he looked remarkably fit and cheerful for someone who’d sat in the same cramped seats as herself for more than six hours.

Weakening, she let her eyes draw back to him. Darn, he was still coming her way. The air left her lungs in one short, sharp huff. Disapproval, or a way of releasing the tingling feeling inside her? She couldn’t make up her mind.

Kel was an outstandingly attractive guy. Some woman’s dream man. “Handsome is as handsome does.” The thought produced a picture of him hesitating as her case disappeared, rather than his sexy smile. Why couldn’t she shake the feeling he had let her down even before they met?

The glint in his eye told her she would have to be rude to get rid of him. But she couldn’t very well say “Beat it! I need time to get my mind round the assumption that one of my ancestors is alive and well, if only in spirit, and I’m carrying him inside my case.”

The feeling of having a stopwatch running down the seconds of her life wasn’t quite as new. She’d learned to live with it, which might qualify as an oxymoron when what had really happened was that she’d discovered she’d likely die with it.

“So, Ngaire, we meet again,” he said, stopping less than three feet away, not quite invading her space but hovering on the outskirts.

Again, his crooked smile tugged at a memory, a bittersweet one that hinted at the refrain, long ago and far away. She refused to let it affect her. Refused to let hope surface where there was nothing to sustain it, except tiredness and a feeling of being alone and vulnerable. So she answered, “What I’m wondering is, why? I thought you’d have taken off ages ago. Were there no shuttles into the city?”

“It was a question of having to check in with my travel agent. All my arrangements were made in such a rush that I didn’t know which hotel she’d booked. Just one of the drawbacks of acting on the spur of the moment.”

“So you’re all fixed up now?”

“Yeah, but I was hoping to catch you before I took off. What took you so long?”

His teeth cut a white slash in his features. Another time, another place, that smile would have made her toes curl. But too quickly it disappeared as he came out with “They catch you trying to smuggle something into the country?”

Ngaire felt heat flame in her face as her sense of humor took a nosedive. His joke struck closer to the mark than was comfortable. “Just a small problem with my declaration form. I put a cross in the wrong place and the customs guy took some convincing of it. This is my first overseas trip and some of those questions are pretty ambiguous.”

“Your first? I’d never have guessed.” His gaze skimmed her body, breaching the space she’d thought protected her. “You look pretty experienced to me.”

Thanks for the nudge. Kel was so hot a woman was apt to lose her perspective. She shrugged. “A jerk’s a jerk no matter where you find him.”

Let him make what he would of that remark.

Ngaire accompanied the statement with a stare that should have made him back off, but he was obviously too full of his own appeal to take the hint.

“Tell me about it. In my line I must have met them all.”

“And what is your line?” Apart from hitting on strange women in airports. Tiredness, it seemed, had caught up with her again, making her feel disgruntled.

“I’m a sales rep for a software company.”

“Well, nice to meet you, Kel, but I’m not in the market for software.” Or soft looks. Or anything else he was selling, even if his eyes did look like melting chocolate and she was a chocoholic from way back. From this moment on, she was a recovering one.

“No problem. I’m on leave at the moment. Taking a vacation around my old stomping grounds before I head back to Australia. I cover the Pacific Rim and Southeast Asia.”

“Did you know Australia has twenty-five different varieties of fleas? More than any other country in the world.”

“No, I didn’t. It’s not something I’ve personally had to deal with. Now, snakes on the other hand—”

“Don’t get me started on those.” She shivered. “Nasty things, thank heavens there are none in New Zealand.” Only two-legged ones. “Just as well, because the way I feel at the moment, the only thing that could make me run is the sound of a hot shower.”

“How about having dinner with me after your shower?”

Kel must be good at his job. Tenacity was a big requirement for a sales rep. She’d thought she’d made herself pretty plain without being in-your-face rude. “I don’t think so. The only place I’m going after my shower is bed. And no, I don’t want company.”

“Too bad, I know all the best places…for dinner, that is.”

Despite her weakened condition she averted her gaze from Kel’s melting eyes and too sexy mouth and caught sight of a shuttle pulling up outside the terminal. “That’s my ride, I’ve got to run.”

“I’d better give you back your rose-colored glasses, then. You’re starting to sound as if you need them.”

She gasped with delight as he dangled the pink shades in front of her. She’d thought they were gone for good.

Guilt dropped into her conscience, cold and heavy and weighing on her. Her shoulders jinked slightly from side to side, as if that would shift the blame. It didn’t.

“It was kind of you to wait. I’m sorry if I seemed less than sociable, but you know how it is. It’s been a long day. All I want to do is find my hotel.”

“No worries, you didn’t offend me. Which hotel are you in?”

“The Hilton.” Ngaire felt uncomfortable saying the name. Every time she did, it sounded too much like boasting for a girl who lived in the blurred area where Chinatown and North Beach merged. But it was all part of her prize, and she wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the teeth even if they were gold plated.

“The Hilton? Great! That’s where I’m staying.” He looked over his shoulder at the shuttle just starting to fill up outside. “I can ride along with you. It’ll be fun.”

Too frazzled to disagree, Ngaire simply went with the flow as his laptop case changed hands and he took her elbow to accompany her to their transport. Her heartbeat kept time with the wheels of her suitcase as it clicked, clicked, clicked across the tiled floor. Now, what were the odds that they’d both be booked into the Hilton? Neither of them looked to be of the platinum-card variety. But then, looks could be deceiving.

Garnet Chaly eased his slim backside into the chair, a hand on each arm as if it might rock under him. The illusion brought about by the fact that all he could see below him was water. The Waitemata Harbour that the Auckland Hilton perched over.

Running a hand through silver hair just long enough for studied elegance, he leaned back in the chair. Surveying the hotel room, Chaly rubbed his thumb against his fingertips with a shivery whisper of skin against skin that he found soothing. Outside the window, the lowering sun had turned the sea silver, as if the Hilton had ordered it to match its decor of pale gray, blond wood and white. Luxurious, yet minimalist, like a sleek ocean-going yacht. The company was doing Jellic well this time around.

Chaly crossed his ankle over one knee and twitched the cuff of his black pants level with his socks as he heard the click of a keycard sliding through the slot in the door.

As it swung open, Kel filled the gap between the doorjambs, silhouetted against the light from the corridor, but there was no mistaking the high-bridged nose or the cheekbones that made his Dalmatian heritage unmistakable.

Instead of looking into the room, he faced right and gave a wave, not turning until after he heard the sound of a door closing nearby. Shifting sideways, he eased the bag over his shoulder and into the room. He was a big bugger, rough around the edges when he needed to be, but tonight he looked like a beach bum. “Aloha, Kel. Where’s the luau?”

Kel’s suit carrier hit the stand provided. “I know, the shirt needs changing, but I didn’t want the target out of sight for however long it took. One of many drawbacks to working without a partner. Have you fixed me up with a new one?”

Kel threw him a swift, hopeful glance as he placed his laptop bag on the writing desk. Its spindly metal legs barely looked able to support its top, never mind all the gear Chaly knew his agent would be carrying.

“None available. Training new agents takes time, and Gordie Tan was the third casualty in as many months. There’s been a lot of negligence doing the rounds, watch it’s not catching.”

Hands fisted on his hips, Kel prowled toward the window and stared at the water. Without turning he said, “I bet that just cuts you up.”

“All my agents are important. Without them the South Pacific would be the hellhole it became after Cook navigated these waters. Meanwhile we all have to pick up the slack, you included. That said, I’m only a call away if you need me.”

Hiding his face couldn’t disguise the emotion choking Kel. Chaly’s fingertips moved faster against his thumb. Damn Jellic, a perpetual do-gooder. He’d always been a sentimental fool. Hell, the only reason he’d joined GDE was to right all the perceived wrongs his father had done. Chaly knew all about Jellic’s father. A man who’d driven off the top of a cliff rather than face the consequences of being a bent cop caught dealing drugs.

His sister was similarly maimed by their family history. He’d heard that Jo McQuaid Stanhope and her brand-new husband, a millionaire, had started digging around in the past, trying to prove the father innocent. Idealists, they never could be happy with just the money.

With the sea and the islands of the gulf blocking in the rest of the window frame, Kel worried at the stubble on his chin as if considering an apology for his rudeness. Too easy. No way was Chaly going to give him a chance to back down or pull out. Knowing Jellic the way he did, he solved his problem by going for the jugular.

“If you can’t handle the pressure, say so now and I’ll take the job on myself. I hear the target’s built. Maybe I could get myself some of that.”

Chaly’s silky sarcasm relieved the tension. He resisted giving away his thoughts by shaking his head. Hell, he could take on Jellic’s job, no sweat. But Kel could never do his until he learned how to spell dispensable.

“I never said I couldn’t cope, but a bloody bus tour! How crappy is that? Do you know where they take you to on those tours? The Waitomo Caves, for God’s sake! Walks through the rain forest. She could ditch the papers anyplace and we’d never find them. It’s obvious now she’s only carrying the formula, because they checked her out at customs and didn’t find anything.”

The satisfaction of getting his way stuttered to a halt. “You’re sure they didn’t find anything?”

“She’s here, isn’t she? Right next door.” Kel started unzipping the bag holding his laptop. “Ngaire said it was only because she’d marked the wrong square on her declaration form.”

“Ngaire?”

“You didn’t really think I’d been wasting my time?” Quickly opening his laptop case, Kel palmed a small device from one of the pockets, then walked to the dividing door separating his room from the one next door. He opened it quietly, attaching the electronic gadget to the other door, listened for a moment, then tried the handle. “Locked. She’s having a shower. I’ll check out her gear later.”

“Don’t get caught. If she knows we’re on to her we might as well pack up now, as we’ll never know her contact or the drug cartel behind them.” For the first time since Jellic arrived Chaly felt a need to stand, get on the same level.

“You trying to teach me to suck eggs?”

“Sure, and spiders have wings. I’m just reminding you of the importance of this mission. If kiss-and-tell reaches Asia, we’ll never be able to halt its production.”

“How can you be sure this is the only copy of the formula?”

“I’m sure. Dead sure, and that’s all you need to know. Whoever knows the formula can hold the world at ransom. You know how easy it is to slip ecstasy into someone’s drink, do it with kiss-and-tell and they’ll be paying for it the rest of their life. It’s either that or death.”

“Then let me go in there now and search her luggage.”

“Do you really think it’s that easy? No country in the world will prosecute her for carrying a piece of paper with a formula written on it. We have to strike at the optimum moment and take out her contact. I doubt if he’ll be as clean as she appears to be. We need to know who we’re up against. There hasn’t been a whisper of the outfit’s name on the streets, only some scuttlebutt about the drug. And there’s always someone who thinks he can take a rumor and turn it into a profit, so you might not be the only one with an eye to the main chance where Ms. McKay’s concerned. It has to be one of the triads. But which one?

“They’re holding all the cards and keeping them close to their chest.”

“So take it now and let’s be done!” Kel exclaimed.

“No. You’ll have to steal the formula eventually. Whatever happens, the secrets of kiss-and-tell must end up in our hands.”

“That reminds me.” Kel produced a plastic bag from the case on the desk and tossed it in Chaly’s direction. There was a matchbook inside.

“What’s this for?”

“My fingerprints will be on there, and with a bit of luck, the prints of the guy who tried to steal Ngaire’s case outside Faa’a airport. Maybe he was an opportunist, but with the amount of Gucci luggage in the same pile I’d say he’d targeted hers.”

“This is the one time I hoped not to be proved correct quite so easily. At least now we know we’re not the only ones on her trail. Stay close to her. Hell, sleep with her if necessary. I’m sure it wouldn’t take much for a guy like you to pull her. And for God’s sake, take care they don’t take out the courier before we do.”

“The target thinks she can take care of herself—she’s taken self-defense lessons,” Jellic snorted. The first bit of humor Chaly had heard in his voice since he arrived.

“That won’t help against a gun.”

“Speaking of which, did you bring what I need?”

Chaly approached the bedside table and opened the drawer. “See for yourself.”

There, lying beside the Bible, was a Smith & Wesson Chief’s Special Airweight with a two-inch barrel and filed-down trigger to prevent it from catching on his boot, plus a load of ammunition.

Jellic joined him, picking up the ankle holster. “Just the thing for a trek through the rain forest. Are my vouchers for the tour here as well?”

Outside the sun was going down and the room looked as if it was filled with gray water. Chaly switched on the bedside lamp and encouraged it to drain away. “That’s them in the wallet with the New Zealand dollars. Your itinerary’s there, too.”

His stomach pinched as he watched Kel flip through the papers. Time to eat. “Now that you’re armed and dangerous, I’ll take my leave.”

At the door he turned, his fingers on the handle. Jellic was stripping his black floral shirt off. He stood wearing only his crumpled slacks, bathed in the light from the lamp like a modern version of a white knight. Maybe the target would take a shine to him. Chaly believed in using any ammunition he had.

“One more thing, Jellic, try to stay out of trouble.”

“Don’t worry, boss. I already made that decision for myself. And believe me, I’m going to do my damnedest to stay out of her… Slip of the tongue. I meant trouble.”

Chapter 3

Next morning, Kel took a chance to give his sister Jo a call while he knew Ngaire was in the shower. He didn’t have her home number, but she was sure to be at work by eight. Jo was the baby of the family, the only girl, and probably had had a rougher upbringing than she might have if their mother had lived. He and his brothers had teased the hell out of her. Since Jo was scarcely three inches shorter than him and had been a cop for more years than he could remember, he’d think twice about doing it now.

With Jo’s phone ringing in his ear he kept an eye on the picture on his computer screen. This came courtesy of the fisheye lens he’d slipped through the lock of the connecting door last night. Fiber optics had come a long way. The reception was almost as good as being there. Almost.

So why did it make his skin itch to watch her every move? It had never troubled his conscience when he’d used the setup before. Why did he feel like a voyeur in this instance?

“Detective Jellic.” His sister answered at almost the same moment he saw Ngaire leave the ensuite wearing only a towel.

He had to swallow before he could answer. “Hey, sis, what’s with the name? I heard you’d got married, congratulations.”

“Is that you, Kel? Where are you?”

“Yeah, it’s me, and I’m in Au-ck-land.” The name of his hometown came out mangled as Ngaire dropped her towel. She was tanned all over, and low on her belly a few silvery scars that looked like a botched appendix operation stood out against the bronze skin.

“Yes, I’m married, but I don’t use my name on the job. The powers-that-be have a problem with the wife of one of the Stanhopes using her real name. Too dangerous, they reckon. A temptation to kidnappers. So, when can we meet? I can’t believe you’re home after all these years. Have you spoken with Kurt yet? I’m sure your twin would appreciate a call.”

Ngaire stepped into her black lace thong. Turning her back to the camera, she skimmed a finger between the silky narrow strip and her rounded buttocks, adjusting it to fit.

His mouth went dry as his mind imagined his fingers doing the same. Finally his sister prompted him to answer. “Kel, are you still there?”

“Uh, yeah. Sorry, I got distracted.” More than that, he felt embarrassed, as though standing talking to his sister with a hard-on pressing against his zipper put him beyond the pale.

“No. Kurt and I haven’t been in touch.”

At least not in any way he could explain to Jo. He’d been feeling his twin’s pain for more than a year now and knew that though Kurt’s body had healed from the accident on Mt. Everest where two of his friends lost their lives, his mind was a long way from getting over it.

“I won’t be able to see you this time, I’m on the job.”

“I don’t suppose there’s any point in me asking what job?”

“Right, sis, but don’t worry, I’m not crossing into your territory.” The hardest part of his work was not being able to discuss it with his family. The only one he couldn’t completely hide things from was Kurt. The link between them went both ways, like one of those old phones they’d made as kids with a tin can at each end and a string carrying vibrations.

“I guess I’ll have to take your word for that.”

As he began to answer Jo, Ngaire started dressing and robbed him of speech. He’d been sure Ngaire didn’t wear a bra, and now he knew for certain as she slipped a baby-blue T-shirt over her head. It wasn’t as short as the crop top she’d worn yesterday, but as it barely covered her waist, and she’d still to put her pants on, it did nothing to help his predicament, which was rock-hard.

Seemed his sister had taken his heavy breathing and sighs as something else. “Well, you can’t blame me for being skeptical. I’m a cop, it comes with the job. I wish we could meet, though. I really wanted to speak to you about Dad.”

One leg at a time, Ngaire’s oh-so-tempting skin disappeared from view behind navy capri pants. “Thank God!”

“What?”

He realized Jo had thought his heartfelt exclamation was meant for her and quickly turned it to fit his feelings about his father. “I mean, thank God we can’t meet, because he’s the last person I want to talk to you or anyone else about.”

“The situation isn’t going to go away, Kel. You have to face it some time. I’m sure Kurt would agree.”

“Leave him out of it. Kurt knows my feeling on this better than anyone else.” The screen showed Ngaire gathering up a few things, then she disappeared from view inside the wardrobe. What seemed like an age later, she reappeared holding her small navy day pack and a light nylon yellow raincoat.

“So, have you been in touch with him? Did you know he was living near Queenstown?”

“No, but I knew he was depressed. I thought it was because of his accident. Talk about shades of masochism, what’s he doing surrounding himself with mountains?”

“He’s building a lodge down that way to cater to skiers in the winter and climbers in the summer.”

“Damn, it’s worse than I thought.” He knew instinctively that Kurt had no intention of ever climbing again, so what the hell was his twin up to? The sight of Ngaire opening her bedroom door brought his speculation to a halt. “Gotta go. Talk to you on the way back and we’ll sort out Kurt.”

He slipped one foot, then the other into his boots, pulling them up blind as he checked the clock on the bedside table, then lifted the cell phone that Chaly had left beside the wallet and gun. It only took a second to straighten his khaki pants over his boots and cover the S & W in its holster.

He allowed himself another minute to shut down the computer while he removed the lens from next door, because of an inborn belief that people would as soon take a shortcut as not, housemaids and himself included. That minute and the few others it would take him to search her room should give Ngaire time to descend the five floors to the restaurant for the breakfast included in the tour package.

Kel punched the requisite numbers into his cell phone on the walk to the elevator. He’d found nothing in Ngaire’s luggage but some underwear, and that had made him feel a regular letch as he pawed his way through it with the scent she wore floating up from a pile of silk fancies. The clothes she’d hung up in the wardrobe were easier on his concentration, and though his search was swift, it was thorough and there was no evidence of the formula.

“Heartbreaker,” he said, giving his code name to control. Gordie’s idea, because Kel pulled the girls yet brushed them aside.

Heartbroken would have been more appropriate, but he hadn’t told Gordie that. His buddy had thought it funny, but with him gone the joke had worn thin. There was no room for relationships in his life; his work didn’t lend itself to anything permanent. If he’d discovered anything about love it was that the two Ds, death and divorce, would take care of it for him.

“Anything new?” He listened as the guy on the other end gave him what little information Chaly had already passed on. This assignment had him fumbling around in a fog, half blind. Whoever said “No news is good news” was in a different line of work.

“No, nothing to report at this end. She had room service, no calls in or out and went to bed early.” Almost naked.

“A woman, huh? I’ll add that to what I’ve got here.”

“Right. I’ve just made a fruitless search of her room. Whatever she’s carrying she has it on her. I’ll be out most of the day. No contact unless it’s an emergency. I’ll have company. Heartbreaker signing off until 2200 hours.”

He was the only one waiting, and was amazed when the elevator arrived empty. No distractions. Nothing to stop him questioning the unfamiliar sensation curling in his gut.

Guilt? That would be a new one. It never bothered him spying on the people he investigated. They were the scum of the earth and asked for everything they got.

His father included?

Usually, he avoided going down that road, but Jo had set his memories stirring. One thing for sure, his father’s children hadn’t deserved the fallout from Milo Jellic’s brief flirtation with drug dealing. Sure, in a one-parent unit they’d been halfway dysfunctional before his death, but the final years of childhood, with only Grandma Glamuzina in charge of five teenagers had completed what his mother’s early demise had started. There’d been times when he’d thought suicide—the option his father had taken—put Milo Jellic one up on the rest of the family. They’d had to take all the crap that followed.

Although he hated to admit it, the military had given him some sense of what he’d been missing, and when he met Carly, his ex-wife, he’d been certain he had it all.

So, he couldn’t be right all the time. About two years after his divorce was finalized he’d been offered the chance to join GDE and jumped at it.

Payback time. Payment for the devastation his father had helped wreak on the families of addicts, and more personal, for being robbed of what little childhood he’d enjoyed.

So, why the guilty feelings about watching Ngaire?

Why did the guilt feel stronger when he thought of her going to bed in the white, opaque silk nightdress that hid none of her lush charms, than when she’d been naked? Was it the hot blood pulsing in his groin while doing his job that sent tentacles of shame spreading through his veins?

He shook off the feeling as the silent disappearance of the elevator doors brought the second-floor lobby into view.

The word tentacles was a dead giveaway to the state of his subconscious. Ngaire was making a sucker of him with her exotic looks, white virginal silk sleepwear over a siren’s body sculpted in pale copper with her shoulders cloaked in the shining jet veil of hair she’d left loose. Under his breath, he let out a wry curse at the direction his mind was taking.

As if written in headlines, A Mata Hari for Our Times flashed across his retina in a subconscious warning. One thing for sure, unlike James Bond he had no intention of sleeping with the enemy.

Sleeping with the enemy.

The echo flirted with his memory. Chaly saying, “I hear the target’s built,” then later, “Sleep with her if necessary.”

When had his boss discovered the courier was a woman? And why hadn’t he passed the news on to either him or control earlier? Come to that, what else did he know that he hadn’t passed on? Time had taught him that when the top brass started keeping secrets from you it was essential to watch your back.

His gaze zoomed in on Ngaire’s table, an automatic response from some sort of residual magnetism, useful even if annoying.

“I’d like a table at the rear by the window,” he told the hostess, knowing the restaurant wasn’t busy enough for her to mind him choosing.

Ngaire was supping cereal as he approached her table. He caught her with the spoon to her mouth as he said, “’Morning, Ngaire. I hope you slept well.”

The spoon in her hand waved in response as she desperately chewed what she had in her mouth—muesli, judging from the amount of crunching going on. Her eyes widened, focusing on the chair opposite as she swallowed. He knew it was perverse to take satisfaction from her discomfort, though he had to admit she looked cute, and young.

Too young for the game she was playing.

“’Morning, and yes, I slept fine. Did you want to join me?”

“No, I won’t disturb you.” I’ll leave that until later. “Maybe I’ll see you around.” Count on it.

When he finally caught up with the hostess, she motioned him to a table by the window where the wind spattered the glass with sea and rain. Sitting farther back, he could keep Ngaire in plain view without affording her the same opportunity.

He shrugged off his light rainproof bomber jacket, hanging it over the back of his chair before heading for the breakfast buffet to load up his plate. No problem there, he was a quick eater, a trait that came with being a member of a large family.

Soon they’d have to board the bus for the Gannets and Grapes part of the tour northwest of the city. Their bus would leave at 0900 hours. Ngaire’s small day pack looked as though it was loaded for everything but bear. Being a guy he needed much less—a jacket to keep off the rain, his wallet and a gun to take care of the rest. Maybe even bears. The human kind.

Kel planned to be last onboard. That way he wouldn’t have to endure sitting beside Ngaire with a libido still fragile from watching her this morning. He’d never had any trouble imagining a woman naked, but Ngaire had exceeded anything his mind could conjure up.

Spearing bacon, eggs and mushrooms, he layered them up the tines of his fork and took a bite. If nothing else, he could enjoy the food. Everything was first class on this job.

Including his target.

Ngaire stifled a yawn as she squirmed farther down into the cushioned seat. “The tour is full, but I’ll find someone compatible to sit with you,” the tour guide had said, showing her to a window seat roughly halfway up the aisle. The guide’s accent had been pure Kiwi, though her looks were Oriental, and Ngaire found a sense of fellowship.

Outside in the cafés bordering Prince’s Wharf, where the hotel was built, umbrellas drooped miserably, like sun hats caught in a sudden downpour, and what patrons there were hid inside. This wasn’t exactly the welcome she’d expected from paradise.