Seduced By The Enemy

Seduced By The Enemy Jamie Denton Rogue FBI agent Jared Romine is determined to prove his innocence. Accused of a double murder he didn't commit, Jared knows he's simply a pawn in a larger conspiracy. The only way to clear his name, though, is with some help. And sexy lawyer Peyton Douglas is the one he needs…and wants.Peyton doesn't know what to think. Jared insists he's being framed. But she's sure he did it. Not only did she see the evidence, she's the one who turned him in…. He claims she's in danger, and wants to protect her. Now on the run, she isn't sure she can maintain her self-control. Jared's hot kisses and sensual touch ignite something within Peyton she'd forgotten existed…a burning desire that won't end with just one night. “I don’t find you the least bit charming, Jared.” “You used to.” “You’re being ridiculous.” Peyton sounded miffed. He rolled on top of her and braced his arms on either side of her hips, trapping her. “Am I?” He made the mistake of looking at her mouth just as her tongue moistened her lips again. “Then why won’t you give me a straight answer?” “I’m not hiding from anything. The past couple of days have been miserable and I’m exhausted. Would you please leave?” Jared wasn’t buying it. He leaned forward and cupped her cheek in his palm, smoothing his thumb along the satiny softness. Her breath caught. “Don’t do this, Jared.” Her whispered words were more invitation than rejection. “Why? What are you afraid of?” He nibbled her earlobe and she trembled. With agonizing slowness, he tasted his way down her throat. He stopped just below her lips. “Just that you won’t stop me if I do this?” Peyton’s soft moan of pleasure when his mouth caught hers in a hot openmouthed kiss was all the answer he needed. Dear Reader, I’d like to thank everyone who took the time out of their busy schedules to write me about my October 2001 Harlequin Blaze novel, Sleeping with the Enemy (#10). Chase and Dee’s romance is a book that will always be special to me, and to hear from you that you also enjoyed their story has been one of the many highlights of my career. As promised, I now offer you Jared and Peyton’s rocky road to romance, in Seduced by the Enemy. It is my hope that you will enjoy their story, and find that I kept my promise by bringing you a sexy, suspenseful tale of romance and intrigue. I so enjoy hearing from readers. Feel free to drop me a line anytime at P.O. Box 224, Mohall, ND 58761 or by visiting my Web site at www.jamiedenton.net. Until next time, Jamie Denton P.S. Don’t forget to check out tryblaze.com! Seduced by the Enemy Jamie Denton www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) For Leena. Fate brought us together, Friendship keeps us that way. Always, Jamie Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Epilogue 1 TIME WAS RUNNING OUT. He’d have to make his move soon before they figured out he’d been hiding right under their noses for the past week. He kept his movements to the darkness of night, primarily because doing so had become so familiar. In fact, the night had been his constant companion for far too long, but it kept him cloaked in the fantasy of security. A false sense of security, true, but one he understood and respected. His survival instincts, which had failed him only once in the three years he’d been on the run, were once again at a peak. Instincts made even sharper now as he stood in the shadows outside her home. The home of the woman who had handed him over to the bureau as if they’d never been in love. A woman he could no longer trust, but who would have to trust him if she wanted to stay alive. Jared Romine blew out a stream of smoke from the cheap, generic cigarette, then tossed the butt into the gutter. He was alive, and that had to count for something. At least lately it did. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of the well-worn, leather bomber jacket, his fingers finding the key to the low-rent motel room he’d checked into for the week. Thanks to fellow agent Chase Bracken, and the manila envelope tucked between the mattress and the box springs back at the room, he was that much closer to the truth that would finally free him, that would finally allow him to reclaim his life. He’d once foolishly believed he could have the semblance of a normal life, but the cost of that error in judgment had been astronomical. It was a lesson he’d not soon forget. He leaned against the gnarled trunk of the leafy tree outside her home, while his instincts shouted at him that the perfect opportunity would soon be at hand. Timing would be everything, but he wouldn’t, couldn’t, make a move until the optimum moment. In the meantime, patience was key. Something he’d had plenty of experience with, a desire to stay alive. Both had kept him one step ahead of a series of federal agents on his trail. He might not be on the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s most-wanted list, but he was definitely their biggest embarrassment, and that was as good as having a price on his head, with a big red Dead Or Alive stamped across a wanted poster. He’d defied them by staying ahead of the supposed good guys. By drifting from one small town to another, losing himself in large cities. And until his one fatal mistake, he’d never stayed in one place for too long. Careful never to draw too much attention to himself, he worked whatever jobs he could find to provide himself with basic sustenance and the bare minimum in creature comforts. Creating a new identity each time he moved, he searched relentlessly for the truth—and continued to slam up against one brick wall after another. Thanks to Chase Bracken, the undercover agent who’d fallen in love with his younger sister, Dee, Jared finally had been handed the truth. At least a part of it. He prayed it was enough. Time was running out. Once the wheels that were set into motion started to grind, it would be too late. For him. And for her. At one time he’d been a highly trained deep-cover agent for the FBI. They’d trained him how to hide. As a former Naval Intelligence officer, reinventing himself and creating opportunity where none existed was second nature; they were skills that had served him as well as they’d hampered him since he’d gone underground. Thank God it was all going to end soon. To anyone who might happen to gaze out their pretty curtained window on this sultry Indian summer night, he was nothing but a neighbor who’d stepped outside for a smoke. Nothing unusual. Nothing to draw too much attention to himself in the modest Arlington, Virginia, residential district where the neighbors kept to themselves. He waited and watched. His time was nearly up. He’d been standing in the shadow of the tree for almost thirty minutes, and it was now close to midnight. Any longer and his presence might raise suspicion. He knew where she lived. He could come back again if it became necessary. Still he waited outside her house, shifting his gaze from the surrounding area to her bedroom window and the moderately priced sedan parked in the drive of her moderately priced home. The perfect life she’d always wanted for herself. Once upon a time, it would have been their perfect life. No lights shone through the windows of her perfect little house in the suburbs. Was she sleeping, or sitting in bed reading some brief she’d brought home from the office? He envisioned her curled beneath the sheets of the bed they’d once shared, with one hand tucked beneath her chin and the other hidden beneath the mound of pillows she insisted on having, but rarely used. Did she still sleep in worn flannel pajama bottoms and a skimpy tank top that barely reached her navel? Had she stopped reaching out for him in the middle of the night when she’d had a bad dream? After all the time that had passed, undoubtedly. He heard the slamming of a screen door and stepped deeper into the shadows. Peering cautiously around the tree trunk, he watched as a portly, middle-aged man in a bathrobe and slippers stepped off the porch of the house directly across the street. Seconds later a light flared, followed by the steady red glow from a cigarette. “Hurry it up, Henley,” the guy said to the small, scruffy white dog who’d accompanied his owner out into the warm, sultry night. Henley darted off to a neighbor’s yard to leave his calling card. The dog took a dump and the heavyset guy chuckled. “Good work, boy. That’ll teach that old bat to let her cat dig in the missus’s flower beds.” Henley finished his business, then pricked his ears forward. The dog’s attention zeroed in on the tree Jared hid behind. Damn. He couldn’t make his move now. He’d have to wait until there was little or no chance of him being spotted entering her home. He’d have to remain patient for just a little while longer. Except he didn’t have a lot of time left. If his instincts and Chase were right, the whole mess was close to blowing up and taking with it another person he’d once cared for deeply. The woman who’d betrayed him. When he’d met with Chase and Dee four weeks ago, he’d realized they were unaware of the fact that she’d turned him over to the feds. After reading the information he’d found in the case file, Chase had suspected a no follow-up order had been issued. Which confirmed Jared’s own suspicions that whoever was involved in framing him was pretty high up the ladder in the bureau, based on the lack of information regarding her involvement in their failed attempt to arrest him. Henley must’ve decided there was no threat. The dog ran back to his owner and together they entered the house. Jared turned and headed down the quiet side street. He’d been coming here for a week, watching and waiting. Other than himself, no one else was conducting surveillance on her, of that much he was certain. Now he knew what he had to do. She was predictable, except for tonight, when she’d arrived home after eleven. Usually she left her office no later than seven-thirty and was home by half past eight, nine at the absolute latest. Tomorrow he’d make his move, because time was running out. PEYTON DOUGLAS SNAPPED the heavy volume of federal codes and procedures closed with a disgruntled sigh. The thick lexicon hadn’t contained the information she’d been hoping to find, but the Justice Department had an extensive law library at their counsels’ disposal, where she hoped she’d find the answers…eventually. U.S. v. Howell wasn’t supposed to be a difficult case. It should have been a slam dunk for the Justice Department, except for that nasty business about a Fourth Amendment violation by the Drug Enforcement Agency credited with busting Howell. A rookie mistake by a seasoned agent that frustrated her, because the agent in question knew better. If she couldn’t turn this case around by winning her argument against defense counsel’s motion to suppress evidence, Howell could very well walk right back to the street, where coordinating large scale heroine deals was his way of life, instead of doing ten to twenty in a federal prison as he deserved. A quick glance at her thin, gold wristwatch told her it was time to go home. She never stayed in the office past seven-thirty if she could help it. Tonight, instead of shutting down her computer and doing just that, she slipped the defense motion from the file and started reading…again. She’d already put in a long week, spending more time in court than in the office, where she needed to prepare for the upcoming Howell motion. At least she had the weekend to continue her research. Maybe she should call it a night and come back early in the morning, she thought, then kept reading the defense motion. The truth was she enjoyed her Saturday mornings in the office, when the hallowed halls of the Justice Department were unusually silent. More often than not, she did some of her best work on those quiet mornings when the only sounds that could be heard were the occasional radio broadcast from the office of another junior attorney, or the gentle hum of her own computer. What she really enjoyed was being alone with all that history within the sacred halls of justice. One Saturday morning a few years ago she’d ventured into the old case files room and spent the entire morning and half the afternoon reading dusty old court transcripts and files involving some of the biggest mobsters from the thirties and forties. They were the stuff old gangster movies were made of, but a thousand times more colorful and twice as deadly as their Hollywood depictions. What she wouldn’t have given to be around back then, to be the lawyer who finally brought the big guys like Al Capone and his equally evil counterparts to justice. “I’m calling it a night just as soon as I finish up your research notes for the Points and Authorities,” her secretary, Kellie Nicols, said from the doorway, interrupting Peyton’s delusions of grandeur. “Do you need me to come in tomorrow to work on the reply to the Howell motion?” Peyton glanced up at her secretary. She’d worked with Kellie since her first day in the Justice Department four years ago. The two women had hit it off right away and were more friends than boss and employee. In fact, there was only one other person who knew her as well as Kellie, and as much as Peyton swore she wouldn’t think about him, he’d steal into her mind at the oddest times, leaving her with a deep sense of melancholy and regret. “No,” she answered with a shake of her head, hoping to dislodge thoughts of Jared Romine just as easily. “You have a life. Go live it.” Kellie grinned, her brilliant green eyes sparkling with laughter as she crossed the room. She smoothed her short black skirt before she sat in one of the chairs in front of Peyton’s desk. “Who told you that line of garbage? I’m single, I live alone with two cats and have no potential prospects on the horizon. How pathetic is that?” Peyton leaned back in the warm leather executive chair and slipped off her reading glasses. “You’re twenty-eight years old, Kel, not eighty-eight. I wouldn’t exactly call you a spinster.” Kellie laughed while she pulled the pins from her hair, letting the auburn waves fall around her shoulders. “My downstairs neighbor, Mrs. Markum, is sixty-seven years old. She has more dates than I do. And she doesn’t own any cats, either. It’s Friday night and where am I? Typing up research notes for Points and Authorities on a case we’re probably going to lose. Pathetic, I tell you. Just pathetic.” “I didn’t ask you to stay,” Peyton retorted with a grin. “And what makes you think we’re going to lose Howell?” Kellie shrugged. “Gut instinct. The Fourth Amendment’s a hard one to get around, and that agent definitely blew it big time. Sorry, Counselor. There’s just no way around something like this. And from the notes I’ve already typed, you agree with me.” “Don’t I usually.” Peyton really couldn’t argue. She’d been feeling the same way since her direct supervisor, Bradley Jacobs, had handed her the case last week. “I hate to let Howell walk, though. He’s one of the bad guys that really deserves to be behind bars.” Kellie shrugged her slender shoulders again. “Win some, lose some. Now, let me see that rock again.” A slow grin touched Peyton’s mouth. “You’ve seen it a dozen times today already.” “So, what’s one more? It’s gorgeous, Peyton,” Kellie said, standing. “If someone like Leland Atwood had just given me a two-carat-diamond engagement ring, you can bet I’d be shoving that puppy under everyone’s nose for them to admire.” Peyton laughed and allowed Kellie to lift her hand so she could get a closer look at the emerald-cut diamond solitaire Leland had given her last night, when she’d finally accepted his proposal of marriage. Now that she’d said yes, she still couldn’t explain why she’d waited. It wasn’t that she didn’t love Leland. She admired him and respected him, two elements she knew would make their marriage a comfortable one. Leland wasn’t the type to run at the first sign of trouble, either. He was the kind of man who was committed to anything he chose to accomplish. A former Justice Department attorney himself, he’d left the DOJ to accept an appointment as a federal court judge shortly after Peyton joined the department. Leland’s career was definitely on the fast tract, as evidenced three years later with an appointment to the federal appellate court as a circuit court justice. His goal was to one day make it to the Federal Supreme Court. Peyton had little doubt Leland would one day realize his dream. With all his potential, she should have found the decision to marry him an easier one to make. He had a bright future ahead of him as a relatively new appointee to the appellate court, and at thirty-nine he kept in shape by playing racquetball twice a week and jogging five miles daily regardless of the weather. But for reasons Peyton couldn’t pinpoint, every time he’d asked her to marry him during the last two months, she’d hesitated, claiming she wasn’t sure if she was ready to settle down. Settle down? she silently scoffed. Her work was her life. What was there to settle down? She didn’t own a cat, or even so much as a goldfish. About the only wild oats she’d ever sown were the ones she sprinkled with salt and a little butter in her cereal bowl each morning. It hadn’t always been that way, she mused. Once upon a time, she had had a great love affair. One man had stolen into her heart, into her soul, but it had ended badly, as great affairs often do. Except most didn’t end with one of them turning the other over to law enforcement. “You’re lucky, Peyton. Most people find a great love only once,” Kellie said, as if reading her mind. “You’ve had it twice.” Peyton pulled her hand free, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. “Jared was a mistake. Leland and I are much more suited to each other.” Kellie frowned down at her. “But you’re in love with him, right? I mean, he’s obviously in love with you. Two carats’ worth.” “I love Leland, yes. He’s gentle and kind, and he appreciates me the way I am. He isn’t always trying to change me, to get me to loosen up and live life on the edge. Leland is…comfortable, and that’s something I need in my life.” “Comfortable, or safe?” Kellie challenged. “Is there a difference?” Kellie walked to the window overlooking the busy street ten floors below, and stared out into the darkness for a moment. “Do you want to know what I think?” she asked, keeping her back to Peyton. “Not really, but I have a feeling you’re going to tell me, anyway.” Kellie turned to face her, a frown marring her delicate, petite features. “Leland’s safe, Peyton. He doesn’t make you feel too much. Not like…well, not like Jared.” Peyton let out a slow breath. She’d been thinking about Jared, and now Kellie was reminding her of what she’d tried for three long years to forget but could never quite completely manage to do. Her friend knew how difficult it had been for her when she’d made the phone call to turn Jared over to the bureau. But he’d gotten away, knowing she was the one to betray him. She hadn’t wanted to believe him capable of a brutal double murder or of stealing two million dollars, but the agents who’d come to see her had shown her the evidence against him. As an attorney for the United States, reviewing evidence and building a case out of that evidence was her job—a job she did damn well, if her recent promotion was any indication. And she’d seen more than enough to know there was little remaining doubt of Jared’s guilt. He’d claimed he’d been framed, but what she’d seen with her own eyes told another story. The story of Special Agent Jared Romine, one of the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s best turned bad. The truth was indeed damning. Jared’s fingerprints had been all over the crime scene. From everything she’d been shown, the evidence not only pointed solely at Jared as the shooter, but as the one who’d taken the two million in cash from Senator Martin Phipps’s office, as well. She still hadn’t understood why the senator had had that kind of money lying around, and she probably never would know. Still, while her mind understood that everything pointed to Jared as the guilty party, her heart had taken a whole lot longer wrapping itself around the fact that he’d actually killed his partner, Jack Dysert, and the senator’s top aide, Roland Santiago. Two million bucks was a hell of a motivator, so maybe she had her answer, after all. She looked at the solemn expression on Kellie’s face, at the compassion and understanding shining in her eyes. Kellie never judged. She only offered support and comfort. As far as friends went, she was easily Peyton’s closest and dearest. Peyton stood. “I won’t deny it. On a certain level, yes, Leland does make me feel safe.” She stuffed the Howell motion back into the file before turning off her laptop, wishing she could shut down thoughts of Jared just as easily. “And yeah, I guess you could say he is safe, too. He’s got a solid career ahead of him. We have the same goals. We’re well suited. There’s nothing wrong with that, Kel. Not if it’s what I want.” Kellie let out a long breath, her gaze filling with frustration. “What about passion? I mean, okay, I like Leland. He’s a nice enough guy and he obviously adores you, but come on, Peyton. The guy just screams beige.” Peyton frowned. “Beige?” “Yeah. Beige. You know, you’re making love with the guy and he’s feeling a little adventurous so he lets you be on top. But he’s not looking at you, he’s staring at the ceiling, and instead of saying something wicked and naughty that’ll excite you more, he says, ‘I think we should paint the ceiling beige.’” Peyton couldn’t help herself; she laughed. “Okay, so Leland is a little conservative. But for the record, Ms. Nicols, there’s nothing wrong with beige. Beige is a nice, neutral color. It goes with just about everything.” “Beige is boring,” Kellie countered. “I just don’t want you to settle for beige and then find out later you really wanted shocking blue or hot and sexy red.” Her days of hot and sexy red were over. Peyton knew that, and embraced the staid, stable life she’d created for herself. She’d betrayed hot and sexy red and had made up her mind to opt for safe, secure and settled. The betrayal held a wealth of regret, but she’d had no other choice. If she thought about it, she was glad she’d finally made the decision to marry Leland, even if it had taken her two months to accept his proposal. She’d made the right choice. Wasn’t that what mattered in the long run? That’d she’d made the choice that was right for her? Peyton slid her laptop into her briefcase, then considered adding the Howell file. Leland was away for the weekend at a judges conference, and chances were all she’d do tonight was more research, anyway, so she moved the file to the side of her desk. Since she’d be in the office tomorrow morning, there was no sense dragging it home with her. She snapped her briefcase closed. “Hot and sexy red is you, Kel. Not me.” Kellie planted her hands on her slender hips. “When I first met you, you could be classified as hot and sexy red.” She held up her hand to stop the argument hovering on Peyton’s lips. “I know, I know. That’s the past. Beige is safe. Boring, but safe. Just make sure Leland is what you really want, okay?” Peyton set the briefcase on her chair to shrug into her navy blazer. “It is,” she said, adjusting the collar. “He is, okay?” Kellie let out a long-suffering sigh. “Okay,” she said, but her eyes told another story, and Peyton didn’t want to look close enough to read the words. She didn’t need to. She had them memorized, and knew the story hadn’t equaled the stuff fairy tales were made of, but a cold, hard reality with a different ending, one filled with betrayal and heartache. A tale that told the story of a man and a woman who’d been made for each other, until one of them had taken a path the other could never follow. “Come on,” Peyton said, leading the way out of her office. “I’ll walk you out.” Kellie sat down at her desk just outside Peyton’s office and pulled the research notes she’d typed from the printer. “You go on ahead. I’m staying in the city this weekend, so I’m going to finish these Points and Authorities before I leave. I get to meet dear old mom for a late dinner, and then it’s back to her place for a girls’ weekend,” she said, then shuddered dramatically. “I told you my life was pathetic.” “At least you have a family who cares about you,” Peyton said, shifting her briefcase to her other hand. “Yeah, too much. My weekend will consist of hearing ad nauseam what a perfect life my older sister, Monica, has with her perfect husband, perfect children and perfect house. Even her precision trained German shepherd is perfect. Oh yeah, and when am I going to find the perfect man, yada, yada, yada. Still sound like loads of fun?” Peyton laughed and pulled her keys from her purse. “You know you love it. Have fun,” she said, then started toward the exit. “I’ll see you Monday after the Howell hearing.” Since there were few people left in the building so late on a Friday night, it was no wonder the parking garage was practically deserted when she stepped off the elevator. Gripping her briefcase in her left hand, she positioned her keys in her right as a paltry weapon against any would-be mugger. She crossed the parking garage, listening for sounds other than the click of her own sensible navy pumps against the concrete. The light nearest her car was still burned out, deepening the shadows as she approached her Ford Taurus. The light had been out since Monday. She made a mental note to have Kellie advise the building superintendent of the problem again. It really wasn’t safe to be waltzing through the parking garage at night, but doing so without adequate lighting was just plain stupid. Having no other choice, she approached her car using a great deal of caution. She opened the trunk and placed her briefcase inside, then, after a cursory glance around the area, slammed the trunk closed and pressed the button on her remote to unlock the door. Out of habit, she looked through the rear driver’s side window, but it was an exercise in futility, since the interior lamp in the car had obviously chosen to burn out, as well. What was it with her and lightbulbs lately? She slipped into the car, slid the key into the ignition and turned it over before reaching up to pull the seat belt in place. Her hand stilled in midair and a scream lodged in her throat when a large, callused hand covered her mouth. Then something hard and round was pressed against the base of her skull. 2 “HELLO, PEYTON.” She’d recognize that voice anywhere. Deep, and as smooth as the highest quality brandy. Even though she detected a hardness in his tone she didn’t remember, there was no mistaking it was him. Jared. He’d come back. For her? For revenge? Considering she’d turned him in once, coupled with the fact that he was holding a gun to the back of her head, she wasn’t about to make any snap decisions about his motivation for returning. She inhaled slowly and fought to exhale evenly in an effort to still the rapid cadence of her heart. Fear-induced panic would do her no good and would have her thoughts scattering like autumn leaves dancing in a wind storm. Focus and concentration had to be her sole objectives if she had any hope of escaping him, and maybe even learning what he wanted from her and why he’d come back. “Let’s just take things slow and easy,” he said, his voice low, as if he was talking to her over a candlelight dinner and not holding her hostage in her own car. “No one needs to get hurt.” Not getting hurt was just fine by her. Slow and easy would give her time to think, to take advantage of the first opportunity to escape and call the authorities. He wasn’t the same man she’d once loved, and she desperately needed to remember that, instead of exhuming memories better left buried. The man holding her captive was the enemy, and dangerous. A fugitive who’d murdered his partner and the top aide to a prominent United States senator, and made off with two million dollars like it was some grand prize for his horrendous crime. Since she was the one who’d attempted to hand him over to the feds on a silver platter, she had a right to be fearful and cautious. She remained perfectly still, concentrated on breathing evenly, and slowly opened her eyes, only to peer into the shadowed darkness of the deserted parking garage. “Listen carefully, Peyton.” He reminded her exactly who was in charge by adding the slightest amount of pressure with the weapon he held on her. As if she needed reminding. “Put your hands on the steering wheel.” In the rearview mirror, she sought him out, but the darkness inside the vehicle prevented her from discerning anything more than the reflection of his silhouette. She wanted, needed to see his eyes. For as long as they’d been together, she’d always been able to read him by the look in his eyes. It’d been the only way she’d known when he was upset, frustrated, even angry. She’d also known the love he’d once felt for her was as real as it got. And when she’d betrayed him, she’d known how deeply she’d hurt him. Those days were long gone. But that knowledge didn’t stop her need to look into his dark emerald eyes now when it was most important, when one glance would tell her whether or not she was in real danger. The blasted darkness prevented her from searching for the truth. He kept his hand over her mouth so she couldn’t scream bloody murder. Not that anyone would hear her this time of night in the deserted parking garage, but just the same, he obviously wasn’t about to take any chances. Her eyes darted to the steering wheel, then back to the rearview mirror. “Forget it, Peyton.” The silky tone of his voice stirred memories she couldn’t afford to think about now. How he could see so clearly when she could barely make out the shape of his head was beyond her. “I disconnected the horn.” He added a little more pressure with the weapon. “Hands, sweetheart. Steering wheel.” He nudged again. “Now.” Sudden anger reared up inside her, white-hot and fiery, shoving aside her earlier fear and uncertainty. She did as he ordered, then tried to twist her head free of his grasp. A useless endeavor. He held her head firmly against the headrest and what she was certain was the nose of a pistol. Frustration nipped at her when she couldn’t even open her mouth to bite his hand. “Take it easy, sweetheart. I’m not here to hurt you, but to save you.” Save me? From whom? she wanted to rail at him. Or what? “This car has automatic locks, right?” he asked her, instead of answering the question she couldn’t voice. She nodded her head as much as his tight hold would allow. “We’re gonna do this slow and easy,” he repeated. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to, if it’ll keep you safe. Do you understand that, Peyton?” He waited, so she nodded again. “Good. I’ll explain everything later, but right now, I want you to reach over and engage the locks.” None of what he was telling her made sense. Keep her safe? As far as she could tell, he posed the only danger. Didn’t he realize that after what he’d done, he could end up being shot on sight? He was a wanted man, for crying out loud. Once she hit the button and the locks clicked, he finally removed the pressure from the weapon he held on her. She heard the rustle of fabric and assumed he’d stuffed the gun into his pocket. Breathing suddenly became a whole lot easier. “I’m going to remove my hand. Are you going to scream?” She shook her head. No one would hear her, anyway. She seriously doubted the aging guard could hear her if he was standing directly in front of her. Still, she had to do something. Was she really supposed to believe she was the one in danger, when it was his face on a wanted poster? With his hand still clamped over her mouth, he reached over and snagged her purse off the seat, dropping it on the floorboard beside him. “I’m going to remove my hand. Scream, and who knows what might happen. I’m feeling a little edgy right now, so I wouldn’t make any fast moves if I were you. You understand me, sweetheart?” At her nod, he added, “Okay. Ease over to the passenger seat.” As slowly as he’d ordered her to follow his instructions, he removed his hand. She sucked a large gulp of air into her lungs. “What do you think you’re doing?” she snapped at him, ignoring his demands. “Why are you here?” “Now that’s a hell of a greeting for someone you haven’t seen in three years,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Move over.” Remaining behind the wheel, she shifted in the seat so she could get a good look at him. Shock coursed through her at the sight. Although vibrantly alive, and way too virile for her not to notice, he’d aged. A lot more than three years would warrant if he hadn’t been hiding from the authorities, and doing only God knew what to stay alive and hidden. Thanks to the lights on the dash, she could just make out haggard lines of fatigue bracketing his eyes and the slight gray sprinkled along his temples. He was only two years older than her thirty-one years, but he looked so much older, and tired, as if he hadn’t had a good night’s rest in weeks, maybe even months. Three years, her conscience reminded her. Three long, no doubt hellish, years. Against her better judgment, compassion nipped at her. She desperately wanted to feel nothing toward him, but deep down she knew she’d have an easier time asking for the moon to be personally delivered to her doorstep with a pretty pink ribbon wrapped around it. Jared had been such an important part of her life. He’d been her life, or so she’d thought once upon a time. Despite her need to remain detached, the trace of fear she detected in his gaze gave her heart a sharp tug. The Jared she’d known, the Jared she’d once loved with all her heart, had never been afraid of anything. That his eyes held even a hint of that emotion now worried her, even more so than the determination she sensed there, as well. “You’re a fugitive, Jared,” she said, lowering her voice. “As an officer of the court, it’s my duty to—” “Save me your legal duty bullshit, Peyton,” he said with an unmistakable hardness in his tone. “I’ve heard it before. Remember? Now move it over like I told you to, real slow.” She had to find a way to get through to him. Certainly he realized the danger of even being in the D.C. area. If he was found, they’d kill him. She knew that. She’d been involved with Jared long enough to know feds didn’t take too kindly to their own going south, much less killing a fellow agent in the line of duty. “They’re looking for you, Jared. They’re always looking for you.” “Tell me something new,” he said impatiently. “Now move it.” She twisted around and acted before she could think about the possible consequences. She slammed the car into reverse and stepped hard on the gas. The car shot backward, tires squealing on the smooth concrete. Jared swore vividly and scrambled to keep upright. She jerked the car to a hard stop, but before she could shift into Drive, he reached over the seat and killed the engine. As he tried to remove the keys, she fought him, tugging unsuccessfully on his hands, pulling on the sleeve of his lightweight jacket. He yanked the keys from the ignition and tossed them on the floor at her feet. She knew then the battle was lost. Not ready to give up the fight completely, she made one last-ditch effort and reached for the door, opened it, but he swore again and grabbed a handful of her hair. The butterfly clip holding it in place flew to God knew where an instant before her feet hit the pavement. Dammit! For a few moments, the only sound inside the car was their ragged breathing. In the distance, she could hear the sounds of the D.C. traffic. “That’s the wrong way, sweetheart,” he said, his mouth dangerously close to her ear. His warm breath fanned her flushed skin and sent a shiver traveling down her spine. “Close the door, Peyton.” Temporarily out of viable escape options, she reluctantly did as he ordered. She tried to pull away from him, away from that mouth close enough to brush against her skin, but he held on tight. “Look, if it’s the car you want,” she said, struggling to calm herself, “just let me get my briefcase and you can have it.” “So you can run to the nearest phone and report it stolen? Not a chance, sweetheart.” “Stop calling me that,” she told him. She was no longer his sweetheart, babe or any of the other silly endearments he’d used during their affair. “What do you want?” “Dammit, I’m trying to protect you, Peyton.” “Then you should have stayed away.” “I couldn’t. This is what they wanted.” “What who wanted? You’re talking in circles.” “Look, I’ll explain later. Right now we need to get out of here. They could be watching us even now.” “Who, Jared?” She wanted to understand, but without an explanation, she was reduced to guessing games. “Who could be watching? The bureau? They wouldn’t be watching, they’d be surrounding the car with guns drawn like a bunch of liquored-up farmers on a turkey shoot. And guess who the turkey is?” He let out a frustrated breath. “Let’s take this back to the beginning, okay? Move over to the passenger seat.” “I’m not moving anywhere until you explain what’s going on.” “I told you—I’ll explain later.” The words were sharp and clipped. “Move it, Peyton. Now!” With nothing left to do but follow his orders, she eased over to the passenger seat. He kept her hair wrapped around his hand until he moved first one, then the other leg over the seat and slid behind the wheel. He adjusted the seat to fit his long, powerful legs, then adjusted the mirror and double-checked the locks. He even made sure the window lock was engaged before he scooped up the keys and started the car. With his foot on the brake and his hand on the gearshift, he turned to look at her. “I’m not going to hurt you.” “Oh, really?” Although his gaze held sincerity, she still balked. She was effectively his captive. He was the one in control, the one calling the shots, and she hated it almost as much as she hated the changes in him. “Then what do you call that gun you held to my head? A greeting card?” He had the audacity to offer her a sheepish grin as he reached into his pocket. When he opened his hand, she stared in disbelief at the round, black plastic object lying across his calloused palm. “A lighter? You mean to tell me you scared me half to death with a disposable lighter?” He slipped the car into Drive and headed toward the exit. “It worked, didn’t it?” He stuffed the lighter back into his pocket and pulled out something else. She looked down at his hand. “I suppose you’re going to tell me you’re responsible for the light being out in the parking garage, too,” she said, taking the small lightbulb from his palm to return it to the overhead lamp in the car. When he just grinned at her again, she let out a disgusted sigh, then reached behind her to pull the seat belt into place. Being kidnapped was one thing, but that didn’t mean she had to compound stupidity by riding around unprotected. “Will you at least tell me where we’re going?” “Somewhere that’s safe.” He glanced quickly in her direction. “At least for now.” “And then you’ll let me know what this is all about?” “Yeah, Peyton. I’ll tell you. But I guarantee you’re not going to like it.” HE LOVED HIS JOB. He was powerful, connected and damn good at what he did. Invitations to dinner parties in the homes of Washington’s movers and shakers always came to him. The other senatorial aides on the hill called on him for advice and counsel. Lobbyists vied for his attention and were grateful when he gave it to them. Visits to the White House were a common part of his job, and the rush of adrenaline he felt stepping into the hallowed halls of the West Wing, of having the ear of those closest to the president, never failed to lift him a little higher in his own self-esteem. He wasn’t feared, but he was deeply respected, and respect meant everything to a man who’d crawled out of a dirt-poor childhood, one small step ahead of being trailer trash. His father had been a drunk who’d died instantly behind the wheel of a battered pickup held together by lube oil, dust and a prayer, when it kissed the trunk of a tree at 60 mph. For reasons he failed to comprehend, his mother had mourned the death of her mean bastard of a husband and committed suicide three months later. Only thirteen at the time, thin, pale and oddly quiet, Stevie Radgetz had been the one to find his mother, along with an empty bottle of tequila and prescription sleeping pills as her companions in bed. He’d gone to live with his father’s brother, William Radgetz, following his mother’s funeral. His drunken father and suicidal mother had been a picnic compared to dear old Uncle Willie. At least Stevie had known his parents had loved him in their own misguided way, even if it hadn’t been enough for them to stick around. Willie didn’t give a shit about him and didn’t care who knew it, even thin, pale, dirty little Stevie. It was no secret the only reason Willie kept him around was for the government check that arrived each month, a check Stevie never saw so much as a penny of in the five years he lived in his uncle’s ramshackle house on the edge of town. The only thing he’d ever seen from his uncle had been his fists when he’d had too much to drink, which was often. A week after his eighteenth birthday, Stevie legally changed his last name to Radcliffe and left the Kentucky backwater town, never looking back. With the stash of money he’d earned from the few folks around town who would even hire a Radgetz to do their odd jobs, Steven Radcliffe made his way to California. A high-priced set of forged high-school transcripts and an honest college entrance exam score had enabled him to enroll at the University of California at Berkeley. Part-time jobs, a few of them unsavory, supported him in the lifestyle he’d dreamed of having. While the federal government funded his education with loans and grants, the college housed him first in a dorm and then in a frat house. He’d despised most of his frat brothers, with their spoiled ways and overindulgent parents. He wasn’t stupid, however, and kept his disdain to himself while making the necessary contacts he knew he’d one day need to get his foot in the door of the life he so desperately craved. A life filled with wealth, position, and above all, respect. His plan had been so simple, and was executed with ease. Any and all traces of dirty little Stevie Radgetz no longer existed. He’d gotten his first step in politics thanks to the father of one of his frat brothers, who’d introduced him to an up-and-coming politician. Steve made a name for himself in the political arena, but he never did have the desire to run for office himself. He was better suited behind the scenes, where the deal-making took place, where the real power lay. Which was why one of the most revered senators on the hill, Senator Martin Phipps, an arrogant, pompous bastard, came to him to replace his former aide, the late Roland Santiago. And why Steve was immediately called upon to clean up a very ugly mess. The senator would trample his own grandmother if it meant getting ahead, and that suited Steve just fine. Hell, he’d even provide the running shoes, for the simple fact that when Phipps rose in power, Steve’s own power and value increased. He liked that. A lot. Quietly closing the door to his elegantly appointed office, he headed down the silent corridor to Phipps’s office. Steve had news to impart, but he’d wisely waited until the offices were deserted, lest anyone overhear what he had to say. The door stood ajar. Steve knocked once, stepped inside without waiting for an invitation and closed the door behind him. Phipps unnecessarily waved him in, said goodbye to his current mistress and hung up the phone. “Rumor has it the president is going to announce the first appointment Monday morning,” Steve said without preamble. Phipps liked getting straight to the point, while Steve always preferred a subtle approach. Shifting gears was as easy as playing to the senator’s arrogance. Steve excelled in both. Phipps stood and crossed the lush, jewel-toned Oriental rug to the carved armoire on the opposite end of the office. Keeping his back to Steve, he poured himself a Scotch, neat. “How much truth do you believe is behind the rumor?” Steve carefully sat in the leather wing chair. “My source in the White House is extremely reliable.” “Good,” Phipps said with a nod. He turned and smoothed his salt-and-pepper hair with his free hand, then grinned like the Cheshire cat. “I’ve been invited to Justice Elliot’s farewell dinner. Beautifully ironic, wouldn’t you say?” “Only if the president appoints Galloway and Boswell to the bench once Middleton steps down,” Steve reminded him. He felt confident the president would appoint the two federal appellate court judges to the bench of the United States Supreme Court. He also knew Phipps believed he held in his hands the power that would enable him to convince his fellow senators on the judiciary committee to vote in favor of the appointments. The truth was much more complicated. “He will,” Phipps answered arrogantly. “First Galloway, and then Boswell in a few months, once Middleton announces his retirement.” “If Middleton announces his retirement before the end of the session,” Steve corrected. Phipps ignored that comment. He moved from the armoire and propped his hip on the corner of his large oak desk. At sixty-two, Phipps was still athletically built and kept his body in shape. He worked out daily and was still as fit as he’d been during his years as the star quarterback at Texas A&M, followed by a brief stint in the pros. Phipps’s vibrant blue eyes filled with confident arrogance. “They not only share the same party affiliation, but they openly supported the president’s platform during the last election. With everyone focusing on the abortion issue again, they’re the perfect choice.” “You’re very certain of this.” “I’d bet your career on it, Radcliffe.” No doubt he would, Steve thought. Phipps never had any trouble getting what he wanted. Steve saw to it. Phipps took a drink of the Scotch, then asked, “What else is on your mind, Radcliffe?” Steve leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. “We’ve had a breach,” he said, watching Phipps’s expression intently. Confidence fled from the older man’s eyes, replaced by a flash of fear, followed by anger. “When?” the senator demanded. “About a month ago.” “A month?” he roared. Steve nodded. “And why am I only just hearing of it?” Phipps lowered his voice. “I only learned of it myself. I had a dinner meeting tonight with—” “I don’t give a rat’s ass who you broke bread with,” Phipps snapped. “What went wrong that we weren’t notified immediately?” Steve straightened. He’d expected the senator to be angry, but the fear in his eyes had taken him off guard. But then, when someone was trying to upset the balance of the Supreme Court, he suspected a little fear should be involved. The senator had a lot to lose. So did Steve, which was why he’d make sure the truth would never be leaked. “Whoever did it was good,” he told the senator. “We think it was a professional. He knew where to look and how to cover his tracks.” Phipps rose and started to pace. “Do you think it was him?” “It’s entirely possible, but I have my doubts.” “Enlighten me.” “He would’ve made a move by now if it’d been him.” Phipps let out a sigh. “We need to move first, before he does. Bring him out in the open, Radcliffe. You know what you need to do. It’s time.” “Yes, Senator. I’ll handle it.” Steve stood and immediately headed for the door. He didn’t have time to waste. He had another life to destroy. 3 TAKING THE HARD VINYL chair Jared indicated, Peyton sat at the round table in the far corner of the motel room and quickly surveyed her surroundings, surreptitiously searching for a means of escape. Her only hope was the bathroom, but from the brief glimpse she’d had when Jared flipped on the lights, she couldn’t be sure if it even had a window. There had to be, she thought. Considering Jared had to have made getting out of places in a hurry his number one priority, she couldn’t imagine him holing up without an alternate means of escape. At least the place was clean, if a strong disinfectant smell was any indication. Although dull from years of wear and tear, the multicolored shag carpet was well maintained. Thankfully, she hadn’t noticed a single critter scurrying from the light, either. Not that she cared one way or another, because she had no intention of staying. The fact that he’d kidnapped her by disposable lighter, rather than gunpoint, reassured her to some small degree that regardless of all the tough talk, he didn’t plan to hurt her. Still, a part of her wasn’t quite so confident. In the hard man currently holding her captive, she barely recognized the Jared she’d known. Gone was the smooth, polished federal agent with a promising career ahead of him. A fugitive she barely recognized remained, one accused of a brutal double murder. Only memories existed now. Memories better left alone if she planned to maintain emotional distance. She watched him as he secured the door, then peered through a crack in the draperies to the parking lot they’d left only moments ago. “So what do you plan on doing with me now that you’ve got me here?” She touched the tabletop with the tips of her fingers. When they didn’t stick to the surface, she crossed her arms and leaned against the imitation wood grain. “If it’s ransom money you’re looking for, forget it. I’m practically broke.” He made a noise that could have been a grunt of disagreement. As if the security bar and dead bolt weren’t enough, he slid one of the vinyl chairs beneath the knob and wedged it against the door. “Jared? Are you going to tell me what’s going on? I’d like to be home before midnight, if you don’t mind.” He turned to face her. In the soft buttery glow of the lamplight, she finally saw him clearly. Unable to help herself, she stared in utter fascination. His dark mink-colored hair, always kept short, now brushed his collar, the perfect accompaniment to the faded jeans and worn denim shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders. There was that slight graying at his temples that conflicted with the rebel look, adding a distinguished quality that most men wouldn’t see until their mid-forties or later. He was about twenty pounds thinner than she remembered, but from the way the jeans and shirt clung to his body, she suspected he was no less muscular. Maybe even more so. Much to her surprise, she realized she longed to see the hint of mischief that had once filled his green eyes, along with the lopsided grin she could never resist. If she could catch just a trace of the old Jared, then maybe the past three years would all seem like a bad dream. She gave herself a hard mental shake. The past could not be changed. Hadn’t she learned that lesson time and again throughout her life? Reality stood before her, changed and unfamiliar. She might not like what he’d become, but the hardness she sensed had always lurked beneath the surface was now more apparent than ever before. He’d been an FBI agent, one of the best. An agent didn’t regularly handle Black Ops or deep-cover assignments by not residing at the top of the pyramid. So what if his eyes looked her up and down now with glacial hardness? It made no difference to her whatsoever, even if it did make him even more handsome than she remembered. They were no longer simpatico. The part of her that had clung to the dream of happily-ever-after had died the day he turned his back on everything good and right. Too bad none of her arguments could change one little fact of life—Jared Romine would always be able to turn her head. As if he hadn’t heard her questions or demands, he left his post by the door and crossed the room toward her. “Jared. I want to go home,” she repeated when he pulled his wallet from his hip pocket and tossed it on the nightstand along with her keys. He looked at her over his shoulder. “Sweetheart, you can’t go home. It’s too dangerous.” The expression in his gaze rattled her. “So you’ve already said.” She struggled to come to terms with the fear banked within the depths of his eyes. Fear for her? Or for himself when they caught him? She pulled in a shaky breath and let it out slowly. The sooner she found out what he wanted, the sooner she could return to her life. To her safe existence, where beige was an exciting color. “What’s going on, Jared? If it’s help you want—” “Help?” Hardness replaced the anxiety in his eyes and he gave an abrupt bark of humorless laughter. “Oh, you’d help me all right. Straight into the gas chamber.” She shook her head. “You’re not being fair.” He planted his hands on his hips and glared down at her. “Fair? You want fair?” His angry voice dripped with sarcasm. “How fair were you when you turned me over without even waiting to hear my side of the story?” No, the night he’d come to her, she hadn’t given him a chance to explain. If she had, they would’ve used whatever he’d told her against him. Her arms slid from the table. She balled her hands into tight fists, then stood and returned his glare with one of her own. “They didn’t give me a choice.” The bitter taste of betrayal hadn’t waned one iota in three years. “What did you want me to do, Jared? Risk being disbarred? Lose everything? After what they put me through, I think I paid a high enough price.” He let out a rough sigh and reached for her. “Look, I’m sorry.” Whether he was apologizing for being a jerk or for what her involvement with him had nearly cost her, she didn’t know, and quite frankly, she was too ticked off at being kidnapped to really give a damn. She sidestepped him and made it to the nightstand to snag her keys. “It doesn’t matter. I’m leaving. Don’t waste your breath trying to change my mind.” “It’s too dangerous for you now.” She faced him, anger and frustration still brewing inside her. “The way I see it, the only danger I’m in at the moment is a result of having been kidnapped by a fugitive. It’s safer for both of us if I leave and pretend tonight never happened.” He narrowed the space between them. “It’s not going to be that easy this time, Peyton.” The unexpected and sudden gentleness of his tone stroked her like a physical caress. Sweet, caring and way out of line. Damn Jared, and damn the memories swamping her. “It wasn’t the last time, either.” She spun to leave, but before she took a single step toward freedom, he had her by the arm and used care to turn her around to face him. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. The feel of the long length of his body pressed against her was instant electricity. The urge to wreathe her arms around his neck and pull him down for a long, hot kiss overwhelmed her. Now who’s out of line? “Let me go, Jared.” Her nipples beaded and rasped against the lace of her bra, making a mockery of her demand. That lopsided grin made an appearance, taking the edge off the hard angles of his face. “I remember a time when you didn’t mind so much.” The sensual darkening of his gaze matched the low, husky timbre of his velvety-smooth voice. The insides of her thighs tingled in response, along with the first sensual tug of need pulling in her belly. “That was a long time ago. A lifetime ago.” Obviously not long enough for her body to forget that heaven could always be found with Jared. Oh, this was bad. Real bad. She had to get away from him. The last thing she needed was to complicate this mess any further. Stirring up wicked fantasies was not an option. Or worse, caving in to the desire weaving through her body. She set her hands against his shoulders and pushed. Instead of letting her go, he tightened his hold, urging her body even closer. The soft denim of his jeans brushed against her legs, turning the tingling between her thighs to a demanding throb. Feeling the hard ridge of his fully erect penis pressing against his fly was like laying a match to a fuse of dynamite. “Then why does it feel like I held you this way only yesterday?” Probably because it felt that way to her, too, but she kept the traitorous thought to herself. “Why did you bring me here?” Why did you have to come back into my life, even for a few hours? “Answer me, Peyton.” She wasn’t going near that one, even if her life was in danger, as he claimed. “No. You answer my questions. You said once we were somewhere safe you’d tell me everything.” He lifted his hand and smoothed his thumb along her lower lip. “Your mouth has haunted my dreams for far too long.” “Jared,” she replied. Whether in protest or invitation, she couldn’t be sure. She wanted it to be protest, she really did, but the way her body was humming with anticipation, invitation was closer to the truth. She stared, mesmerized, as he slowly dipped his head. The keys slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor. Oh, mercy, he was going to kiss her. She knew she should stop him, but somewhere deep inside, some part of her that still clung to traitorous old memories ignored the necessary protests and outrage that would quickly put an end to the resurrection of the past. Instead, the second his lips brushed hers, her eyes closed and she welcomed the pressure of his mouth on hers. She’d expected gentle. Maybe even tentative. But what began as the tender brushing of lips quickly evolved into something deeper and hotter and wetter than she’d experienced in a very long time. The last thing she anticipated was for need and desire to tear through her, causing every possible point of pleasure to pulse and throb. As if the last three hellish years had never existed, she clung to him and gave herself up to the insistent pounding of desire as she slid her hands over his torso, exploring familiar territory. As if undressing Jared was still second nature to her, she quickly undid his shirt and smoothed her hands along his bare skin. The enticing flex of muscle and sinew beneath her fingertips had her sighing into his mouth. An invitation didn’t come any more engraved. He responded by moving her backward until her bottom came in contact with the textured wall. His heat surrounded her, engulfed her, and burned slow and hot, catching her completely off guard with its intensity. As though they’d never been separated, her body responded to his with the building of pleasure so overwhelming she knew she never wanted it to end. His tongue stroked hers in a hot, erotic dance of seduction, sending tiny little tremors of pleasure dancing beneath her skin, igniting a hot flame that seared her from the inside out. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew allowing them to continue was wrong, yet even the knowledge that she was charging down a forbidden path did nothing to stem the insistent need where she craved his touch the most. As much as her conscience screamed at her to push him away and put an end to this erotic nonsense, her heart yearned for the single moment in time where she could forget the past three years of loneliness, of longing for what could never be, of steeling herself against the hurt she’d seen in his eyes the night she’d betrayed him. The kiss ended all too soon and he backed away from her. He shoved a hand through his hair and stared at her as if he’d never seen her before. Or maybe he was remembering another time, a time when they’d been in love. Cool air brushed her skin, sending a chill down her spine. The desire to slip back into his arms, to feel the heat of his body pressing against hers, to reassure herself she wasn’t suffering from another dream where she’d wake up to nothing but darkness and a deep ache in her chest, stunned her. She didn’t know whether to weep with frustration or shout for joy that he was standing in front of her, holding her, kissing her, making her forget the horrendous pain after he’d run from the feds, leaving her behind to cope with the emotional and physical aftershocks from events that had spun out of control. “That shouldn’t have happened,” he said, turning his back to her while he buttoned his shirt. “I apologize.” She shouldn’t have let it happen, for a whole series of reasons, but she hadn’t let it stop her from enjoying every second she’d been in his arms. It was only the shock of seeing him again, of knowing he was alive. Yeah, that made sense. She’d plastered herself all over him and kissed him as if it was the most natural thing in the world, just to reassure herself he wasn’t a ghost of her imagination this time. Now there was an argument she could never hope to sell to a jury. “But it did happen,” she heard herself saying. “And dammit, Jared, it felt right.” Was she insane? Obviously. He spun around to face her and stared in disbelief. “Right?” he said, after a half-dozen heartbeats of dead silence. He took a step toward her and snagged her left hand, lifting it until the engagement ring Leland had given her was between them. “Take a good look at that and then tell me again how right it felt.” There wasn’t a single thing she could say in her defense, so she kept her mouth firmly shut. The absolute truth of it was she hadn’t given Leland a solitary thought when she’d been wrapped around Jared. Did that make her a bad person? Maybe. Probably. But would a jury convict her because she’d lost her head for a moment in the arms of the man who’d once touched her soul? Without a doubt, she thought. She’d slipped. Made a mistake. Her emotions were running in high gear and she’d been momentarily rendered conscienceless. No matter how right her heart and body had felt being in Jared’s arms, she wouldn’t let something like that happen again. She hoped. He let go of her hand. “That’s what I thought,” he said, and moved away from her as if he couldn’t stand to be near her. He dropped into one of the vinyl chairs at the round table and leaned back, lacing his fingers together over his stomach. “So who is he?” he asked, his tone conversational, as if he was asking whether rain was expected in the forecast. She bent to pick up the keys and set them on the nightstand before answering. “Leland Atwood.” She returned to the table and sat across from Jared. To someone who didn’t know him as well as she did, his impassive expression just might have been believable, but there was a hardness in his eyes that belied the boredom he attempted. “Atwood?” He laughed, but the sound held more bitterness than humor. “The pompous ass with the DOJ? He’s a good ten, twelve years older than you.” She folded her arms over her chest and gave him a level stare. “Leland is not pompous, just conservative. He’s a federal court judge now, with the D.C. Circuit Court.” “I don’t care if he replaced Scalia on the high court, he’s still not your type. What do you see in him?” She really didn’t care much for Jared’s sarcasm, but considering their history, maybe it was to be expected. “He is too my type. Leland is kind, he works hard and he has a promising career ahead of him.” “He’s a blowhard,” Jared said with a caustic laugh. “And so full of himself he can hardly fit through the door.” “He is not.” So what if she sounded like a petulant child? This was her fianc? they were discussing, even if the entire conversation bordered on ludicrous. A cocky grin canted his mouth. “You’ll get tired of him within a year.” She didn’t appreciate his smirk in the least. “That just goes to show how little you know me.” “Oh, I know you, sweetheart.” He leaned forward suddenly and reached across the space separating them to rest his hand on her knee. Her skin tingled. “I know you like it on top,” he said in that low, husky voice normally reserved for late nights in front of the fireplace. “I know you like it hot and nasty.” She shoved his hand away, not because she didn’t like him touching her, but she wasn’t exactly thrilled that her body responded to him when she was engaged to marry another man. “That was a long time ago. Besides, there’s more to a marriage than great sex.” He rested his hands on his knees and gave her a smug, I-know-better look. “I’ll bet Atwood doesn’t make love to you like you need to be made love to, either. All you’ll get out of him will be a duty fuck because it’s the expected method of reproduction, not because it drives him crazy to see you go wild with desire. And not because he knows how to make you cry out with pleasure.” She shot out of the chair and circled the bed. “You’re out of line, Jared. Way out of line. You don’t know me anymore.” He was the second person in one day to make the same basic assessment of her fianc?. First her secretary and now Jared. Leland was a good man. He had staying power, and a strong sense of right and wrong. They didn’t come any straighter than Leland Atwood. “Within a year he’ll have you knocked up and then you’ll be lucky to get laid until he’s deemed it’s time for the next kid. The picture of the perfect family to show off to the world while he waits for an appointment to the Supreme Court,” he continued. “And you’ll go along with it because of some misguided sense of what happiness is, but you know what? You’ll be dying inside. Little by little, the woman you were will disappear. Because Atwood, for all his drive to succeed, doesn’t know a thing about the woman you are, or have the first clue about what you need.” She turned and looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Oh, and you do?” That cocky grin was back for the sole purpose of setting her teeth on edge. “I never heard you complaining.” “That’s because you were never around long enough,” she retorted. His grin faded and she felt a small sense of satisfaction. “What are you saying?” he asked. “Even before you…disappeared, you weren’t around much.” Weeks, sometimes months would go by without a single word from him. While she was at work, occasionally her mind would wander and she’d always send up a little prayer that he was safe. But the nights? Oh, those were the longest, and the hardest. When she had nothing else to occupy her mind, alone in bed with nothing but the darkness surrounding her, she’d envisioned one horrific scene after another until he came home again. They lived together for nearly a year before he ran, but in that time, she could probably count the weeks they’d actually been together on two hands. “It was my job, Peyton. You know that.” “A job you never talked about. I knew what you did was dangerous, but you never once told me what it was you were doing when you’d be gone for weeks at a time.” God, why were they even having this conversation? What did it matter to her what Jared did? He no longer had that kind of hold on her. “You know I couldn’t talk about my assignments.” “Something, Jared. Anything would have been preferable to the constant fear and worry that you were never coming home. When you did finally disappear, it was almost a relief because I knew then that you wouldn’t be back.” He came out of the chair and walked toward her, his eyes as thunderous as his expression. “You sure as hell didn’t do anything to stop it. You invited the bastards into my own home. Our home.” Once again, they’d come full circle and were back at square one. Anger nipped at her and she snapped, “I didn’t have a choice!” “So you keep saying.” She balled her hands into tight fists and kept them at her side as she stared him down. “If I’d let you explain, if you’d told me anything, anything, it would have been used against you. They were going to charge you with murder, Jared. The kind that would have had you strapped down to a table with a needle in your arm and a big burly guard pressing a large round green button. I’m sorry, but once the death penalty has been carried out, there’s no way to reverse it. And you are a prime candidate for lethal injection, based on the evidence I’ve seen. “If I didn’t cooperate, they could have prosecuted me for harboring, or aiding and abetting. We weren’t married, we were only living together. Only a wife has the privilege of not testifying against her husband, which means you weren’t afforded that protection under the law.” “I didn’t kill Dysert or Santiago,” he roared. “So you keep saying,” she shouted back. “But where’s the evidence to the contrary? I’m a lawyer, Jared. A prosecutor for the United States. I know solid evidence when I see it.” He let out a harsh breath. “You think I’m guilty.” He didn’t question, he stated. She sighed and fought for a calm she was nowhere near feeling. After he’d disappeared, she’d striven for order so she could survive yet another nightmare in her life. In a matter of hours, his presence had shot all her efforts for the past three years straight to hell. No surprises. What a joke. Nothing too emotional. Calm and serene had become painful and chaotic all over again. “I don’t know what to think.” She struggled for an even tone. “You haven’t told me anything. Nor have you told me why you brought me here.” She lifted her hand to stop him from interrupting. “You keep saying it’s dangerous for me, but how do you know that? Why would they come after me? As far as anyone knows, we haven’t seen each other since the night you took off without a trace.” “They’re going to use you to get to me.” “If that’s true, then what are you doing here?” she asked. “Anywhere near me should be the last place you’d want to be.” “I know what they’re capable of,” he said. He sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at her. Pain flashed in his eyes and her heart twisted. “I’m here because I don’t want anything to happen to you.” She sat beside him and reached for his hand. “It’s been three years, Jared. It doesn’t make sense that they’d bother with me now. Besides, after the first few months, the FBI finally left me alone. You didn’t fail me, Jared. You failed yourself, and the law.” He laced his fingers with hers. “Yeah, it does make sense. This is a game I’ve played before. I failed then, but I swear to you, Peyton, I won’t fail this time.” Something in his voice frightened her. Whether it was the cold determination or the hollow sense of dread, she couldn’t decide, but figured they both deserved equal attention. “I don’t understand.” He turned his head to look at her. “No,” he said. “It’s not you I failed.” Caution and dread warred inside her. Whatever he was about to tell her was big, that much she knew for certain. “Then who?” “My wife.” 4 “YOUR WIFE?” Jared let out a rough sigh and wished he’d kept that part of his life to himself. Whether the desire to keep silent stemmed from not wanting to hurt Peyton—which didn’t make a bit of sense, since she was engaged to the legal-ladder-climbing Atwood—or to save his own sorry hide a revisit of the guilt of Beth’s murder, he couldn’t be sure. Of one thing he was certain: telling Peyton about the woman he’d married just might convince her he was telling the truth about the danger she now faced. “You’re married?” He hated that her voice was laced with pain almost as much as he despised the fact that she was questioning him when she’d given up that right the day she’d turned him in to the bureau. Besides, it wasn’t as if she’d spent the past three years pining for him, considering she’d agreed to marry another man. Just one more notch on her belt of betrayal? Or jealousy she had no right feeling? “Not any longer,” he told her. She stood and crossed the room before turning back to look at him. Her arms wrapped around her middle as if holding herself together. Combined with the hurt in her periwinkle eyes, she had his heart twisting behind his ribs. Damn. More guilt? A sure bet, since he was becoming such a pro at it. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this.” She shook her head as if to clear it. “You married someone.” The accusation in her voice that he’d betrayed her ticked him off. “Don’t be a hypocrite, Peyton. That rock on your finger says you didn’t wait around for me, either.” She looked at him as if he’d lost his mind, or as if her current premarital status didn’t even belong in the conversation. “When did you have time to find yourself a wife and get a divorce?” She took a step backward, resting her bottom against the cheap, laminated dresser. “Why didn’t they find you when you filed for divorce?” A coldness crept into his veins that he couldn’t have kept out of his voice if he’d wanted to…which he didn’t. “Generally when one’s wife is murdered, divorce isn’t exactly a necessity.” Peyton’s hands fell to her sides as she stared at him for what seemed like an eternity. “By whom?” she finally asked. The doubt filling her eyes pushed that damned hot button again. “Who the hell do you think?” he snapped, coming off the bed toward her. The fact that she still believed him capable of murder chafed not only his pride, but had his heart stinging, as well. Once upon a time they’d meant the world to each other. Now she circled him like a hand-shy puppy. She held her ground, though—he gave her credit for that much, especially considering she’d made a habit out of taking the path of least resistance whenever her personal life was involved. “I wish I knew.” “Dammit, Peyton. You just can’t trust me, can you?” “You haven’t given me much reason to.” She fired the accusation back at him. She stood toe-to-toe with him, and dammit if the flash of heat in her eyes didn’t have his gut clenching with what he recognized as desire. Guilt continued to nudge him, but he sidestepped it and clung to the anger simmering below the surface instead. Anger was good. It not only let him know he was still alive, but it gave him something else to concentrate on other than the need he had no right to feel. He reached for her and held her upper arms in a tight grip. “You’re going to have to learn. Your life depends on it.” She struggled, but he refused to let her go. The soft floral scent of her perfume teased his senses, threatening to slam him back to a time when angry words between them were about as common as a blizzard in August. “The evidence against you is staggering,” she argued. “And you haven’t told me a damned thing since you dragged me here. If you want me to trust you, then start talking, Jared. And you can start by telling me who killed your wife.” “The same people that are now after you are responsible for Beth’s murder.” As if he’d slapped her, she flinched, and something in her eyes died. “Her name was Beth?” she asked, her voice suddenly quiet. He let go of her and his hands fell to his sides. “Yeah,” he said, “her name was Beth.” Sweet, caring Beth. Sadness weighed him down. She hadn’t deserved to die. He might not have been the one to pull the trigger, but he was to blame for her death. All because he’d gotten tired, and been arrogant enough to believe that maybe they’d finally given up trying to find him. He’d underestimated them, a mistake he would never make again. “Was she very young?” Peyton asked. He knew where this was going—straight down a path where the tracks were still fresh. Ignoring her questions was a possibility, but he understood that if he’d been completely honest with Beth, she might be alive today. A wrong he could never right. He nodded before moving to the edge of the bed to sit. “She was only twenty-six.” The next question was inevitable. He could see it in Peyton’s face when he looked up at her. The one that would compound the guilt he already felt, the one that would hurt them both when she asked it. “Were you in love with her?” A direct shot, right to the heart of the matter. No wonder she made a great prosecuting attorney. She didn’t hedge bets when she wanted information. He could easily lie. Doing so had become second nature to him. He could even attempt to protect Peyton’s feelings, if she had any left for him, but why? They were the past. He was with her now only to keep her from ending up with a bullet through the back of her head. Wasn’t he? Then what was that kiss about? He settled his elbows on his thighs and let his hands dangle between his knees as he stared down at the worn carpet and chose to ignore his conscience. Lifting his gaze to hers, he said, “I cared about her. Love?” He shrugged. “I thought I knew what it was. Once.” She winced, and it filled him with a morbid sense of satisfaction. “Any other questions?” he asked sarcastically. “Just one,” she said, crossing her arms. “You stopped running, didn’t you?” “I didn’t plan to,” he said after a moment. “I hired on as a cook in a truck stop when I ended up in some small town I didn’t even know the name of, somewhere between Manhattan and Topeka, Kansas. Beth managed the place at night and waited tables on the graveyard shift. The cook walked out and I was in the right place at the right time. She hired me on the spot without asking a lot of questions I made a habit of evading.” Still leaning against the dresser, Peyton crossed her slim ankles. “You couldn’t have used your social security number or they’d have been on you right away. How’d you get around that?” “I’d give a phony number, then stall for a week or two, saying I lost my wallet and was waiting for a replacement card. By the time they handed me my second paycheck I’d tell them I got my card a couple of days before, but just forgot to bring it with me. I’d promise to have it the next day, but I’d move on to the next town and the next job under another name and fake social. Until Kansas, I never stayed longer than six weeks in any location.” She looked at him thoughtfully. “Why was Kansas different? Because of Beth?” He pulled in a breath and let it out slowly. Her questions were no less grilling than the ones he tortured himself with every night. Only now he had to face the answers. No more dishonesty. Not if it could cost another person he cared about her life. “She was part of the reason,” he admitted. “That, and I’d been on the run just under two years. I was tired of always looking over my shoulder, and frustrated because after twenty-some months, I was no closer to finding out who the bad guys really were. In all that time, I had zero leads and couldn’t come up with a scrap of information that would bring me any closer to clearing my name. I hadn’t planned on sticking around long, just enough to make some cash so I could keep moving. Moving and looking.” “But you stayed.” “I stayed. I knew in my gut I shouldn’t, but like I said, I was tired and I hadn’t had any close scrapes in almost a year. Maybe I’d hoped they’d given up. Besides, if I never surfaced, then their dirty little secrets would be kept. With an assumed identity, marriage would keep me safe for longer than usual. And for a while, it did.” “How long did it last?” “Almost eight months.” Eight months during which he’d foolishly believed he could maybe have a semblance of a normal life, although nothing like what he’d once envisioned for himself. If it meant staying alive, he was more than willing to make a few concessions. “How long…” Before the bastards got to her? “We were married four months,” he said. “Did she know?” Peyton asked as she straightened and pushed away from dresser. “Did she know about your…past?” “No. Not all of it,” he said with a shake of his head. “I told her I had some trouble once, but that that life was behind me.” Peyton stopped halfway between the dresser and the faded velour rocking chair in the corner nearest the bathroom. “And she accepted that?” she asked incredulously. He shot her a meaningful look. “She did. But Beth wasn’t the type of woman to take anything at surface value. She knew I wasn’t telling her everything, but she trusted me.” And it had cost her her life. “I’m sorry, Jared,” Peyton said, once she removed her briefcase from the chair and sat. Whether she apologized because she hadn’t trusted him, or as an offer of sympathy, he couldn’t say, so he remained silent and waited for her next question. She slipped off her pumps and tucked her feet beneath her. “How did they find you?” she asked as she smoothed her hands over her slim navy skirt. “I’m not really sure. You know what the bureau’s computer system is like and what they can access. Nothing is private anymore, I don’t care what line the public is fed. You know it and I know it. How else would they have known where to find me?” “But, Jared, you know how to hide. You were once Navy Intel. Black Ops. Surely you had contacts.” “I didn’t have the money for a complete new identity,” he said. “Plus, I figured they’d know most of my contacts, so instead of creating a new me without a past that could trigger something in the computer, I crossed the border into Missouri, then hit the big cemetery in Independence in search of a male who’d roughly be around my age if he were still alive. A trip to the county registrar’s office for a copy of the birth certificate, then back across the border for a social security number and Kansas driver’s license, and Sean Barnett was reincarnated.” “Let me guess. You found someone who’d recently died.” He made a sound that roughly resembled a laugh. “I’m not stupid, Peyton. No, I used the name of a child who died roughly thirty years ago, one who wouldn’t have a traceable past. I honestly don’t know how they found me, but they did. “Since Beth and I both worked graveyard at the truck stop, afternoons were free. I’d left her at home and had taken her car in to have the brakes done. Normal everyday stuff. While I was waiting, I spotted a couple of suits coming out of the sheriff’s office. I knew they were agents, so I called Beth right away, told her the jig was up and we should meet at the location we’d discussed, about an hour after sunset.” “How much did she know? You had to have told her something, or was she really operating on blind trust?” He shook his head. “By this time, I’d told her I was wanted by the FBI for crimes I didn’t commit. That was good enough for her,” he said with a condescending lift of one eyebrow. Peyton kept silent. A smart move, since she couldn’t very well argue with him when his word hadn’t been enough for her, not without him calling her a hypocrite yet again. “I played it cautious,” he continued, “and parked the car in the brush, about a mile and a half away from where we were supposed to meet, then stayed off the road as I made my way down toward the lake. Only about a half mile ahead, the place was crawling with agents. A couple I recognized from the D.C. office, but the rest were probably locals from Kansas City. My first instinct was to double back and get the hell out of there, but I couldn’t leave without Beth. I didn’t know if she had told them about the house or the lake and they were holding her there, but I know if it’d been me, I’d have taken her to the house, where there was less of a chance of her being injured if anything went down. So that’s where I went first. If she wasn’t there, then I’d approach the lake from another location and find a way to get us both out of there.” He ran his hand through his hair and released a short, impatient breath. With each memory he dredged up, his guilt mounted. He’d been foolish to believe that keeping Beth in the dark might save her life if they ever did catch up with him. “By the time I made it back to the house, I knew something was wrong, especially since there wasn’t a single agent near the place. I searched the perimeter before going in, then made my way toward the bungalow. “I went in through the back, and found her in the kitchen. She’d been shot, and the place looked as if we’d had some huge fight.” Peyton gasped. “To make it look like you did it. But why? And who in the bureau would do such a thing to an innocent woman?” Restless energy or a vain attempt to escape the guilt had him off the bed and pacing the room again. “Someone with something to hide. And they want to keep it that way.” She straightened and wrapped her arms around her middle once more as she leaned forward. “But why kill Beth?” she asked. “If you didn’t tell her anything important, what could she possibly know?” He stopped his pacing and listened, then shook his head in dismissal when he realized it was just the brake of some 18-wheeler coming off the highway. “Considering we were married, everything, as far as they knew. Or nothing. Obviously Beth was a loose end someone wasn’t willing to risk.” “Do you think it’s one person?” Jared continued his contribution in wearing out the already worn carpet. “I don’t know yet. And until I do know who is pulling the strings, your life, and mine, aren’t worth shit.” “But why me?” That hint of fear reappeared in her eyes. “We haven’t seen each other since you left. It just doesn’t make sense that they’d come after me instead of your sister.” Peyton was light years away from dim-witted, but she sure as hell was stubborn on the issue of her own safety. “It makes perfect sense,” he argued. “They couldn’t get to Dee. And now she has someone who’d give his life to protect her. Plus they already know there’s nothing she can tell them. They’ve tried and they’ve never been able to get to her. They got to Beth and now they’re coming after you for the same reason.” Peyton shook her head in denial. “You can’t know that.” He knelt on the floor beside the bed. “Yes, I can. And they’ve already started.” He lifted the mattress and pulled out the material Chase had given him. “They’ve been building a case against you from the very beginning.” “Building a case? But I’ve done nothing wrong,” she railed. “There’s nothing to build a case with.” Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». 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