Her Secret Agent Man (3 page)

She followed him into the bedroom, alert for any sort of stunt. But he merely opened the closet and pulled out several leather belts.

She eyed the closet full of clothes suspiciously. “Do you own this place?”

He glanced over at her. “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do. You didn’t sound like you wanted to meet in the conference room at Charlie Squad headquarters.”

No kidding. She followed him as he carried the belts back into the living room and sat down. While she watched in no little shock, he leaned over and strapped his own ankles to the chair. He sat up and put his hands behind his back, waiting patiently for her to come over and tie his hands.

“You’re sure you’re going to let me do this?” she asked him skeptically.

“Yup.”

“Why?” she asked as she knelt behind him and wrapped the leather around his wrists and the wooden spindles of the chair.

“Because I want to get this over with.”

A shaft of pain sliced through her. Once he couldn’t wait to spend time with her. He’d made excuses to talk to her for a few more minutes. She’d lived for those hurried conversations and stolen moments. But all of that was long gone.

She leaned back on her heels and surveyed her work. He
looked
well secured at any rate. Did she dare trust him? He sat quietly, staring back at her, his gaze glacial. This was the most bizarre hostage situation she’d ever heard of.

“Feel better?” he asked coldly.

She frowned at him. “I guess so.”

“Excellent. Now maybe you could tell me why in the hell I’m here. I think I’ve earned that much, don’t you?”

She sat down in the armchair facing him. His face could have been chiseled out of granite. His cheeks were flat planes with aggressively slashing cheekbones, his jaw strong, his forehead smooth. He acted completely in control of the situation. Quite the iceman.

“You wanted to talk to me?” he prompted.

She figured her father’s financial records ought to be a carrot Dutch wouldn’t refuse. Not only could Charlie Squad use them to track down and freeze Eduardo’s assets, but they could undoubtedly get a conviction on tax evasion or money laundering or something. She didn’t care what, as long as they put her father away for a good long time.

Of course, the trick was to buy herself time now, before Charlie Squad captured her father. Enough to get her father
to agree to her proposed trade: the money for Carina. So, she’d leak the financial records to Dutch a little at a time. As long as it took to negotiate Carina’s release. Problem was, Eduardo had been surprisingly unwilling to talk so far. He probably expected his men to catch her and bring her in any minute. He had no need to let Carina go. Enter Jim Dutcher.

Belatedly, she said, “I want to make a deal with you.”

“I’m listening.”

“Do you want my father?” she asked.

His eyes blazed abruptly. “Is the pope Catholic?”

She took a deep breath. “I can deliver him to you. My father, I mean.”

Dutch reared back, rocking onto the chair’s hind legs. He glared icy daggers at her. His voice dripped sarcasm. “Gee. Where have I heard that line before?”

She closed her eyes in agony as his words pierced her heart like poisoned blades. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes and met his furious gaze. “Okay. I deserve that. But I’m telling you the God’s honest truth. I’m willing to give you the information you need to put my father away.”

“What information?”

“His financial records.”

“Too damn easy to fake.”

“Not these. I can give you his private books. The ones he doesn’t show anyone.”

“And how do you happen to have access to something like that?”

She looked Dutch square in the eye. “I’m his banker. I have been for years. I’m in charge of money laundering, disguising and dispersing his assets, delivering bribe money, you name it.”

That dropped his jaw. The silence stretched out between them, along with her nerves. Tension stretched tighter and
tighter inside her until it finally snapped. She couldn’t stand it anymore. He had to take the bait!

She dug deep for the courage to look him in the eye and say what had to be said. She took a breath and spoke quietly. “I’m not walking you into another ambush here. I’m offering to hand over verifiable and incriminating financial information. Any prosecutor worth his salt should be able to lock up Eduardo for the rest of his life.”

Dutch’s face went a shade paler and perfectly still. Not a flicker of expression or whisper of movement disrupted his frozen features. He looked like a god captured in marble by some ancient Greek master. She could practically hear him evaluating the risks, weighing the options. But of what? Of killing her after he was untied, or of continuing this conversation and actually contemplating taking the deal she offered?

He asked grimly, reluctantly, “And what do you want in return for this alleged information?”

Here went nothing. “Keep me alive until my father is put away.”

“And?” he challenged.

“And nothing. That’s it. Just keep me alive.”

“What’s the catch?” he asked skeptically.

No way could she tell him about Carina. She had cost him his brother, and she had faith he’d leap at the opportunity to cost her a sister. But, she had to tell him something plausible. She’d already decided to appeal to his pride in his skill and his love of a good challenge.

Aloud, she replied, “There’s no catch. But in the interest of full disclosure, I must tell you it won’t necessarily be easy to keep me alive.”

“Does Eduardo know you’ve contacted me?”

She rolled her eyes. “Are you kidding? He’d have his men kill me immediately if he did.”

“So those thugs who are chasing you are only under orders to bring you home?”

She shrugged. “For now. Once they figure out I’ve come to you, their orders will change.”

Dutch stared at her hard, as if he could look inside her head and see the truth. She wouldn’t put it past him to do it, either. He’d always been able to read her like an open book. She did her best to concentrate on only what she’d told him. She dared not think about her real reasons for doing this, or Dutch would pick up that she was holding out on him.

Lord, this was a desperate game she was playing. But it was this or death for her sister. The crushing panic she’d been holding at bay for the past few weeks began to build again behind her eyes. She didn’t know what to do or who to trust anymore. Where to go or who to turn to. She was so tired of being alone and on the run.

“How do you know I won’t just take you into custody and hand you over to the feds? If you’re his banker like you say you are, you could go to jail until you’re old and gray, too.”

She replied dryly, “I think the odds are much higher that you’ll kill me outright long before you hand me over to any authorities.”

That made him blink.

She continued with a shrug. “But I guess that’s the chance I’m willing to take.”

Masking her desperation, she stared at him, the challenge plain in her gaze. She was willing to risk her life in this unholy alliance. Was he?

H
er heart raced as he stared at her for a long time, not answering. Too restless to sit there one more second under that unwavering gaze, Julia stood up and headed for the coatrack beside the hallway door, shedding her heavy ski sweater as she went. She’d just hung the garment on a hook, when a quiet knock sounded at the door.

“Housekeeping,” a female voice announced. The electronic lock beeped and the handle began to turn.

Dutch shouted from behind her, “No!”

Julia jumped for the door to throw on the interior door lock, but she was too late. The door burst open and two men surged into the suite, lunging at her. She leaped backward, desperately fighting off the grasp of the first guy. The second man circled wide, closing in on her from the back. He grabbed for her legs and she kicked wildly, twisting and turning like a panicked gazelle as they lifted her off the ground.

And then a loud cracking noise split the air. She glimpsed Dutch ripping out of the chair as if it was made of toothpicks. Spindles and chair legs went flying in all directions. He rose like an avenging angel out of the wreckage. He leaped into the fray and delivered a crippling fist to the kidney of the guy trying to grab her legs. Her feet hit the floor and the thug doubled over like a paper doll.

The second man let go of her and turned to fight. Dutch eyed the guy coldly, the promise of death in his eyes. The thug jumped and Dutch slid aside in a blindingly fast move. He stepped forward as the goon spun around to face him and she flinched as he smashed his fists into the man’s face with two lightning-fast blows.

The first guy got up and Dutch spun in a blur, kicking him in the side of the head and sending him crashing to the floor. The second guy was back up on his hands and knees. An open-handed chop to the back of his head, and both men were down for good.

“Close the door,” he ordered tersely.

She jumped to the entrance and peeked out. The maid—or whoever they’d paid to help them—was long gone. She closed the door with a quiet snick and turned to look at the carnage. Both men sprawled, unconscious, at her feet. A trickle of blood dripped from one guy’s broken nose onto the hardwood floor. She stared at Dutch, reeling at the display she’d just witnessed. His eyes were as brittle as ice and danger oozed from every inch of him.

His voice was as cold as his eyes when he stated, “Like I said. I can protect you.”

No kidding. Her stomach rumbled with faint nausea.

Silently, Dutch held a hand out to her.

She stared at his big, callused palm. Those fingers were capable of so much violence. But she’d also seen them reach
out to her as he went down on the living-room floor, begging for help. Seen him allow himself to be tied to a chair—not like that had ever actually restrained him, as it turned out—so she’d feel less afraid. If she was going to survive the next couple of weeks, she had to trust someone. Why not him? It wasn’t as if there was anyone else.

Acting on sheer gut instinct, she stepped forward. Into his arms. In reluctant reflex, he wrapped them around her. Relief unfolded inside her, bathing her in warm comfort. Lord, she’d missed human contact. His sweater was warm and scratchy under her cheek, the man beneath it hard as steel. But in spite of the rigid way he held himself, he made her feel safe. She hadn’t felt that way in a long time.

“Do you recognize them?” he murmured into her hair.

“No,” she sighed against his chest. “What are we going to do with those two?” It was so nice to let someone else worry about things for a change.

Dutch leaned back enough to look down at her. He actually grinned. “Now we get to have a little fun.”

She blinked rapidly. That smile of his still could knock a grown woman right off her feet. “Fun? Are you kidding? These guys just attacked us and there are more of them where they come from!”

Dutch merely stepped over to a kitchen drawer and pocketed a gadget that looked suspiciously like a high-tech lock pick one of her father’s men had shown her a few months back. Then he bent over and hoisted one of the guys over his shoulder. He said casually, “Open the door for me and make sure the hall’s clear, will you?”

She missed the feel of his arms around her, but the sense of comfort lingered. She did as he requested and stood aside as he hauled the man out. At his head jerk, she followed him down the hallway. They ducked into an alcove that housed an
icemaker and a couple of vending machines. Dutch dumped his burden on the floor.

He murmured, “Keep an eye out and let me know if anyone comes this way.”

She peeked into the hallway while he worked behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and saw him at an unmarked door, inserting the snazzy, gunlike lock pick in the lock. Apparently breaking and entering was also part of his repertoire.
A man of many talents.
The door opened and he hauled the unconscious thug into what looked like a storage room for the maid’s cleaning carts.

“Hold this door open while I go get the other guy.”

She nodded and did as he directed. In the eternity he was gone, maybe a minute, she prayed fervently that the goon lying on the floor wouldn’t wake up.

“Here we go.”

She jumped violently as Dutch materialized beside her. He moved as silently as a big cat on the hunt. He dumped the second man beside the first one. “Grab me some sheets, will you?”

She handed him a stack of linens. With quick jerks of powerful muscles, he tore them into thick strips and tied the men’s hands behind their backs. He secured them to heavy cleaning carts on opposite sides of the room from each other and locked the brakes on the cart’s wheels. He tied their feet to two more carts. Leaning back on his heels, he surveyed his work.

“Too bad I can’t kill these guys on U.S. soil.”

She shuddered at the cool calm with which he said that.

He stood up, searching around the room. She watched, frowning, as he grabbed a complimentary pad of hotel stationery and a pen and scribbled a note. He laid it on the floor in front of the door. “There. That ought to keep them busy for a while, don’t you think?”

She looked down at the note’s block letters and grinned. It read,
Call the police. These are criminals.

He tore up one last sheet, stuffing pieces of it into each of the men’s mouths and tying the gags in place with more strips of cloth. He straightened beside her. Goodness, his height was imposing. Ah, but it was nice to have all that brawn on her side for once.

He plucked pistols out of holsters inside both men’s jackets and tucked them in his own waistband. “Let’s go,” he murmured.

Apparently, he was accepting her deal. He’d just attacked and subdued two armed men on her behalf. She followed him out of the closet.

He looked both ways down the empty hall. “Take me to your room. We’re packing your stuff and getting out of here.”

That sounded like a great idea. In a matter of minutes she stood by the door with her luggage, watching him go through her room, wiping down the place for fingerprints. They went back to his room and repeated the procedure, and before long, his suitcases stood neatly beside hers.

They carried their bags downstairs to the checkout counter. While she pulled the necessary cash out of her purse, Dutch checked out of his room, as well.

He led her to the parking lot and tossed their luggage into the back of a dark green, late-model SUV. “How did you get here?” he asked.

When her father’s men caught up with her in Los Angeles, she’d borrowed a car from her college roommate who lived in Malibu. “I drove.”

“A rental?” he asked sharply.

“No. I borrowed it from a friend.”

“That’s probably how your father’s goons found you. We
need to ditch it ASAP. Drive into town and I’ll follow you. Park in the grocery-store lot and then come get in my car.”

“What about my skis?”

“Leave ’em. It’ll make your tails think you fled in haste.”

“I
am
fleeing in haste,” she retorted testily.

He grinned at her. “We need to be seen leaving separately. Can you go get your car by yourself? I’ll keep an eye on you to make sure you’re safe.”

Of course she could walk to her car by herself. She wasn’t
that
helpless. She’d gotten to Colorado by herself, hadn’t she? With a nod to Dutch, she headed across the resort’s parking lot. Lord, she felt exposed. There were still at least four of those thugs lurking around here somewhere. Her breathing accelerated into a rapid, sucking staccato. Abruptly, a flash of yellow hurtled toward her. She threw herself behind the nearest car, her heart slamming into her throat. A little boy charged past, yelling over his shoulder for his parents to hurry up.

She leaned against the hood of the car while she regained control of her wobbly legs. Two more rows over to her car. She could do this. She was
not
a complete wimp. In an act of sheer willpower, she forced herself to move. One foot in front of the next.

An eternity later, she fumbled at her car door with her keys. She slid behind the wheel, locked the door, and sighed with relief. And then something moved in her rearview mirror. She dived for the seat, laying flat against cold leather. Long seconds ticked past. Nothing happened. She sagged in relief. Her heart couldn’t take much more of this.

Sitting up, she checked the rearview mirror. Another movement! But then it resolved itself into a woman skier walking past. Sheesh.
Get a grip.

She reached for the ignition key and hesitated. Ever since she’d seen her father blow up a rival with a car bomb when
she was twelve, she’d had a thing about starting cars. But if her father wanted her killed, she’d be dead already. And it wasn’t as though she had any choice about whether or not to start the engine. She had to get this car out of here.

The engine reluctantly coughed to life, not tuned for high altitude and extreme cold. No explosion. Thank God.

As she pulled out of the parking lot, Dutch fell in behind her and followed her down the mountain to town. She pulled into the grocery-store parking lot and stopped her car. Dutch got out of his vehicle several rows over. She was surprised to see him saunter into the store as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Should she go now? Wait for him to come back? He’d been specific. Park her car and head for his.

She was developing a real hatred of open spaces. How Dutch lived like this all the time, she had no idea. She’d only been on the lam for a few weeks and her nerves were shot. She walked quickly toward Dutch’s SUV, barely managing not to break into a panicked sprint. With a quick glance around—nobody suspicious
seemed
to be watching her—she tested the passenger-door handle of Dutch’s vehicle. Unlocked. She slipped inside, sighing in relief as the darkly tinted windows shielded her from prying eyes.

A couple of minutes later, the driver’s door flew open without warning, and she jumped violently. Dutch grinned at her and she scowled back at him. His grin got wider as he tossed several plastic bags of groceries in the back seat and slid behind the wheel. “Glad to see me?”

“I’m exceedingly glad you’re not the guys who’ve been following me. Where to now?” she babbled in her relief.

“I’ve got the bases covered,” was his enigmatic reply.

Boy, this guy really bottled his thoughts up tight. Although given her history of conning him she couldn’t really expect him to open up. Once burned, twice shy. And she couldn’t
blame him since she’d done the burning. He pointed the SUV back in the direction they’d just come from. She frowned as he started winding up the mountain once more.

When he turned off onto a narrow road, hardly more than a set of tracks in the snow, she began to wonder. Maybe he had a nice little outing planned for himself out here in the woods—her execution followed by a weenie roast perhaps?

He drove for a good fifteen minutes on a series of trails no better than the first one. Finally, he stopped in front of a tall iron security gate in the middle of nowhere. Dutch leaned out the window, punched in a number code on a keypad, and the gate swung open.

A driveway snaked away into a heavy stand of trees. He followed it for a couple of minutes until the woods opened up before them. In the clearing was a resort unlike any she’d seen in this area before. A cluster of twelve large, log chalets arced around the base of a glorious, snow-covered mountain peak. One large log building stood in the middle, much bigger than the others. A helicopter was parked beside it.

“What is this place?” she asked.

“This is a really private resort. Exclusive with a capital E.”

“And how do you know about it?”

“Charlie Squad rescued the owner’s son from kidnappers a few years back. Saved the kid’s life and saved daddy ten million bucks while we were at it. We have a standing invitation to visit.”

And sure enough, when Dutch stepped inside the main building, a woman came out from behind the registration counter immediately and planted a big hug on him. She called out to a man in the back, and in a matter of seconds, he was pounding on Dutch’s back effusively. Julia smiled at how uncomfortable the display of affection made Dutch. The poor guy looked ready to turn around and run for cover.

Finally he managed to get a word in between the couple’s expansive welcomes. “Do you happen to have a room for us for the night?”

“Of course,” the man answered. “Come with me.”

He led them outside to one of the chalets. Its interior was as gorgeous as the scenery outside, and they were settled in it in no time. A staff member brought their luggage in and announced, “The first helicopter leaves at 9:30 a.m. tomorrow.”

Dutch grimaced. “We don’t have skis with us.”

The kid answered easily, “No problem. Come on up to the lodge and we’ll outfit you. The powder’s awesome on the high slopes.”

Dutch glanced over at her, and she gave him a hopeful look. She’d never helicopter skied a wild mountain at the higher elevations. She’d heard it was pure skiing heaven. She’d skied the Alps in Switzerland and the Andes in Chile, but her father frowned on extreme sports and had never let her out of the confines of traditional ski resorts.