Buch lesen: «Mountain Retreat»

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Cast of Characters

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Working as a barmaid at the Silver Star Saloon in Austin put Sidney Parker’s eidetic memory to good use. She could easily remember the drink orders for this table of twelve. With thumbs hooked in the belt loops of her thigh-high jean skirt, she faced the group of well-dressed young people who were still wearing their security badges from the state capitol.

“What’ll it be?” she asked.

They could have answered in one voice: beer. But the Silver Star was a designer brewery with products ranging from Amber Angel to Zoo Brew. Sidney mentally recorded the order and gave a nod.

“Wait a minute,” said a woman with platinum blond curls. “Change mine from Chantilly Lace to Raspberry Rocket.”

“Got it.”

“Are you sure? You didn’t write anything down.”

Sidney inhaled a breath and repeated their order. “We’re starting over here with two Pale Tigers, then a Blue Moon, a Lucky Ducky, Thor’s Hammer Lite...” She continued around the table and ended with the redhead. “And you’ll be having the Raspberry Rocket.”

The gang applauded, and she swept a bow before heading to the huge central bar to fill her tray.

Keeping her brain occupied wasn’t the greatest benefit of Sidney’s part-time night job. The country-and-western sound track, the conversation and general clamor at the Silver Star provided her with a much-needed distraction during those lonely hours before dawn when tears swamped her pillow.

Behind the bar, Celia Marshall ducked down so the customers couldn’t see her adjust the red gingham uniform shirt to better contain her cleavage. “I swear, I’m about to have a wardrobe malfunction.”

“That’s a problem I don’t have.” Sidney never needed to worry about her cup running over; her breasts were small and well behaved.

“I’d trade my chest in a minute for your mile-long legs.”

“No deal.” Sidney liked being tall. In her cowgirl boots, she was almost six feet. She gave her friend a closer look and noticed the puffiness around her eyes. “Something wrong?”

“Ray and I are fussing at each other again.” Celia shook her head and frowned. “I always feel like a class-A whiner talking to you about man problems. Nobody has worse luck than you.”

“It’s not a contest.” Sidney tucked a strand of her long, straight blond hair behind her ear. “And there’s nothing I can do about my situation. You have options.”

“Any word on Nick?”

“Not yet.” She couldn’t bear to think of Nick Corelli, her fiancé. The mere mention of his name conjured up a mental image of a tall, handsome marine with thick black hair and deep-set eyes the color of fine cognac. Her perfect memory filled in all the blanks as she recalled his wide grin, high cheekbones and strong jawline.

If she allowed herself to think about him, she’d be sobbing in a minute. So she pushed his image aside and asked, “What’s up with you and Ray?”

“It’s all about his stupid hunting plans.”

Sidney listened while she loaded her tray. It was going to take a couple of trips to serve her big table, and the domestic drama of Celia and Ray gave her something else to think about. They were both good people, understandable people with normal relationship issues. Not like her and Nick.

As she stood behind the bar, she spotted two men with impeccable posture and serious expressions enter the saloon. They weren’t in uniform, but they might as well have been marching shoulder to shoulder, wearing their marine dress blues.

She set her tray on the bar. “Celia, you’ll have to take over for me.”

After a quick explanation to the shift manager, she fell into step between the two marines. She knew the drill. They were here to escort her to an interview with a CIA agent or someone high up in Marine Intelligence. She’d taken part in sixteen of these interrogations during the past six months after her fiancé went missing in a South American dictatorship. She always hoped that her marine escorts would be bringing good news.

They never did.

* * *

IN A DULL beige room at the local CIA field offices, Sidney paced back and forth behind the table. The heels of her boots clunked on the tile floor. In her barmaid uniform with the short denim skirt and gingham top, she felt a little ridiculous but not intimidated.

The first time she’d been sequestered in a room like this, her anxiety level was off the charts. The shock of possibly losing Nick had been staggering, and she’d been desperate for information. She’d begged, wept and pleaded.

The only facts she’d been able to pry from the case officer, CIA Special Agent Sean Phillips, were that her fiancé was MIA in the South American country of Tiquanna, his body hadn’t been found and he was probably being held by the rebels. There had been no ransom demands.

That was in early May, six months and four days ago. Nothing much had changed in the details she’d been given, but her attitude had transformed. When she first came here, she was a nervous kitty cat. Now, a lioness.

She was half a tick away from going to Tiquanna herself, marching into the palace compound of dictator Tomas Hurtado and demanding an army to storm the rebel camps. She’d met Hurtado three years ago when he consulted with the oil company she worked for in the engineering department. Along with her boss at Texas Triton, she had actually traveled to the small country that was intent on developing its natural resources.

Sometimes, she wondered if that trip was the reason Nick had been selected for the assignment. When he told her that his platoon was being sent to Tiquanna, she’d given him all the inside information on Hurtado and his stunning wife, Elena.

The door opened and Special Agent Phillips entered. Sidney had heard that CIA agents liked to look anonymous so they could fade into crowds. If true, that meant Phillips was a CIA superstar. He was the most average-looking guy she’d ever met. With his thinning brown hair, brown eyes and average build, he was as plain as a prairie chicken.

“Why am I here?” she asked.

“Nice to see you, Sidney.”

“Do you have news?”

A second person entered the room. Special Agent Victoria Hawthorne was higher in rank than Phillips, always dressed in black and as thin as a greyhound. Her dark hair was slicked back in a tight bun. She pulled out a chair on the opposite side of the table and sat. “Have a seat, Sidney.”

“Am I being interrogated?” Still standing, she purposely kept her anger going. “This looks like an interrogation room with the closed door and the table and the big two-way mirror on the wall.”

Special Agent Hawthorne scowled. Her thin lips pulled into an upside-down U. “You’ve been in this room before.”

“And I’ve answered a million questions,” she said. “I’ve been totally cooperative, and I think it’s time I got an upgrade to a comfortable chair and, maybe, a room with windows.”

Ignoring Sidney’s demands, she asked, “Have you been in contact with anyone from Tiquanna?”

“Of course not. If somebody contacted me, I’d tell you immediately.”

Hawthorne regarded Sidney through slitted eyes. “I have information if you’re ready to hear it.”

Hope flickered inside her like a pilot light that refused to be extinguished. “I’m ready. Tell me.”

“On one condition. You must promise not to act on this information. Trust us to do our jobs without your interference. Is that clear?”

“Crystal.”

“Hurtado and his wife will be in Austin next week along with several other South American leaders.”

This was big news. Sidney might have a chance to hear firsthand what was happening to Nick. “I want to see them.”

“I can’t promise,” the thin-lipped agent said. “We’ll do everything in our power to make that happen.”

“Where will they be staying? How long will they be here?”

“You don’t need to know.” As she rose from her chair, Special Agent Hawthorne maintained steady eye contact. Her gaze was a warning. “If they agree to meet with you, we’ll be in touch.”

She turned on her heel and stalked from the room, leaving Sidney with a complicated tangle of anger, frustration and fear. She was afraid to expect too much, but she couldn’t give up. It would be foolish to antagonize Hawthorne, but Sidney’s anger demanded release.

Special Agent Phillips took Hawthorne’s seat at the table, opened a folder and took out four photographs of men in camouflage fatigues. Three of them had beards. “Recognize anyone?”

“Do you think she’ll let me talk to Hurtado?”

“I can’t rightly say,” he said in a Texan drawl.

Over the months, she and Phillips had developed a bit of rapport. He’d seen her at her worst when she broke down into hysterical tears, and she sensed that he was more sympathetic toward her than the other agents.

“I could negotiate with the rebels,” she said. “I know it’s against CIA policy, but I could—”

“C’mon now, Sidney girl.” He poked at the photos. “Let’s do this thing.”

She didn’t want to be a good girl. A lioness would tear these photos to scraps and throw them in his face. She was too docile. Nothing was getting done.

But what choice did she have? Could she single-handedly take on the whole intelligence community? She huffed a frustrated sigh before picking up the photos. This was part of their routine. Because of her memory, the CIA used her to identify men whom she might have met when she visited the country. Thus far, there had been only four familiar faces.

These unposed pictures had been taken in a forested setting. “It’s hard to tell with the beards. I don’t think I know them. Who are they?”

“Rebels,” he said.

“When I was in Tiquanna, I never left the palace grounds. Why would you think I’d know rebels?” She didn’t expect him to answer. “Is it because the palace guards are defecting? Are they joining the rebels?”

“Let’s just say that Señor Hurtado ain’t exactly winning any popularity contests.”

And the CIA wanted to keep Hurtado on their side. Though the dictator had a terrible record on civil rights for his impoverished people, he supported US programs and happily accepted our aid. More important, he was working with neighboring countries to form an oil and natural gas distribution system functioning with US companies.

When Phillips pulled out several aerial photographs of the palace grounds, she groaned. “Not again,” she said. “I’ve told you everything I could about the palace.”

“Focus on this area.” He pointed to a far corner in the walled compound.

She stared. “It looks like the wall is broken. Was it an explosion?”

“Yep.”

A wave of guilt washed over her. In a similar tactic, Nick had disappeared. Six months and four days ago, there had been an explosion targeting the front gates. Two marines had been injured. The last anyone had seen of Nick was when he was trying to rescue them.

Before he left on this deployment, she’d told him not to be a hero, which was impossible advice for a marine. The man lived to protect others. His courage was as much a part of him as his arms and legs. Oh, God, she missed him so much. Without him, her life was empty.

Her fingers gripped the back of the chair. Her knees were weak. Though she wanted to be fierce, the weight of her sadness dragged her down. She sank into the chair.

“Please,” she said, “you’ve got to tell me something about Nick. Those pictures you showed me are snapshots. They were taken from surveillance at the rebel camp, weren’t they? Your people have infiltrated the camp.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. For Phillips, that slight change of expression was more than she’d seen from him in weeks. Sensing a possible crack in the stone wall that kept information from her, she asked, “Do you have photos of Nick?”

“You know how this works, Sidney. I’m here to get intel from you.”

“I just want to know if he’s all right.”

“There’s reason to believe that your fiancé is well.”

The tiny flicker of hope burst into full flame. Something was different about Phillips. He knew something.

She asked, “Is Nick well enough to be rescued? What do you CIA people call it? Extracted. Can he be extracted?”

He pushed the aerial photo toward her. “We need to know about this part of the compound.”

There was nothing to tell. She hadn’t visited that part of the palace grounds, hadn’t noticed anything about the far corner. For the first time, she wondered if it would serve her better to lie and build up the importance of that corner in the hope that she could get more information. But she wasn’t about to play games with the CIA. They were on the same side. She needed to cooperate.

“I was never near that part of the grounds.” She rose from her chair. “I’ve got nothing against you, Phillips. But I need more. Is there anybody else I should talk to? Anything else I can do?”

He leaned back in the chair and folded his arms across his chest. “If you left the room right now and went down the corridor to your left, I wouldn’t stop you.”

“Why? What does that mean?”

“You heard me.”

She took the cue, not knowing what she’d find. Hoping for the best and fearing the worst, her fingers closed on the doorknob and she yanked the door open. Had it always been unlocked? She didn’t know; she’d never tried it before.

After hours, there was no one else in the hallway. One side was all windows, and the other was closed doors. The route she’d always followed when escorted into the building was in the opposite direction. She’d never been this way before.

Moving fast before Phillips changed his mind, she rushed down the carpeted corridor. At the far end, a double doorway opened into a honeycomb of cubicles encircled by offices with glass walls. She heard voices to her left and turned.

In the farthest office, Special Agent Hawthorne stood behind a desk and spoke to four men. One stood apart from the others. His left hand was in the pocket of his gray suit jacket. He was tall with black hair and wide shoulders. Sidney couldn’t see his face, but she knew him.

She took off running. Dodging around file cabinets and desks, she flew across the room. Her feet barely touched the floor. She crashed into the glass wall. Her palms splayed against it. “Nick.”

He turned. His hands met hers against the glass.

Sweet lord, was this possible? She stared, unblinking. If she closed her eyes, she was afraid he’d disappear.

He came around the wall through the door and reached toward her. She latched on to his hand, laced her fingers through his. He was thinner than the last time she’d seen him. His complexion was pale, as though he’d been ill, but this was definitely her fiancé. She lifted her hand toward his face and touched the V-shaped scar on his jaw.

“Oh, Nick, I missed you so much.”

“It’s okay. I’m here. I’m back.”

But there was something different. When she peered into his eyes, she didn’t see the man she had once loved with all her heart. Nick Corelli looked back at her with the eyes of a stranger.

Chapter Two

Nick folded his arms around her and held her in a warm embrace. Tucking her head beneath his chin, Sidney gasped, trying to suck oxygen into lungs that felt paralyzed. She was frozen in time. Her world had stopped spinning.

“You’re trembling,” he said.

“I know.”

She desperately wanted to kiss him, but she was afraid to look into his eyes again. What if he’d changed? What if he was no longer the Nick she’d built her life around? She needed reassurance, needed to know that this was her Nick, her fiancé, her lover.

“They told me it was better to wait,” he whispered in her ear. “They said it would be easier for you.”

“They were wrong.”

And he should have known that. He should have realized how much she had needed to know that he was safe. Every moment he’d been missing, she had feared the worst.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t say that.” It wasn’t right for him to apologize. He’d been through hell. “It’s not your fault.”

“You know I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

“I know.”

“Forgive me, Sidney.”

A burst of anger shattered her fear. Her blood surged. Her muscles tensed. She pushed away from him, whirled and stalked into the office to face the CIA agents, who had been joined by Phillips. “I blame them.”

Special Agent Hawthorne had lied to her only minutes ago. The woman was a monster. If Sidney truly had been a lioness, she would have pounced on the skinny agent, thrown her to the carpet and torn out her throat. Why had they kept Nick from her? What was their plan?

She didn’t really care, didn’t want to know. She’d happily leave spying to the professionals. All that mattered was Nick. He was alive. Everything else was water under the bridge.

“We’re leaving now,” she informed them. “Nick and I are leaving. Together.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Hawthorne said. “Nick will be staying in a safe house until after the visit from Hurtado and his wife.”

“Is he in danger?”

“I don’t owe you an explanation.” Hawthorne’s tone was brisk. “Captain Corelli is a marine. He has his orders.”

“Ma’am.” A man with a thick neck and a body builder’s shoulders stepped forward and shook Sidney’s hand. “I’m Lieutenant Randall Butler. I want you to know that we appreciate what you’ve gone through.”

“Is that so?” Anger pumped molten lava through her veins. “You knew he was safe. I should have been informed.”

“Marine Intelligence has been working with the CIA on this mission. Special Agent Hawthorne is taking the lead.”

In spite of her searing fury, she understood what he was saying. “It was Hawthorne’s decision to keep me uninformed. Why?”

Hawthorne unbuttoned the black jacket of her severe pantsuit and leaned against the edge of her desk. The plain office suited her dull, uncluttered personality. The bookshelves were arranged in order, a few diplomas—including one from Harvard—hung on the walls, and nothing seemed out of place.

Hawthorne’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Part of my job is to assess your psychological profile. Though you’re an intelligent woman who is capable of logic—”

“An engineer,” Sidney said. “It doesn’t get much more logical than that.”

“Your behavior—especially when it pertains to your fiancé—is highly irrational. Therefore, I concluded that you would not be brought into the loop until after Captain Corelli’s assignment is over.”

Clenching her jaw to keep from screaming, Sidney replied, “I resent your assumptions.”

“They aren’t meant as criticism.” Hawthorne arched an eyebrow. “It’s clear that you care so much about Captain Corelli that you aren’t capable of behaving in a dispassionate manner.”

No one had ever accused Sidney of being too passionate. Her engineering work put her in contact with all-male crews who never showed emotion, and Nick was the only man she’d ever had a serious, long-term relationship with. In her twenty-eight years, there had been two other men she’d fallen for, but she had ultimately ended things with them.

Sidney wasn’t going to waste time arguing with Hawthorne, who thought she was doing the right thing. Instead, she pointed out the obvious. “The situation has changed.”

“Yes, it has.” Hawthorne scowled.

“Keeping me in the dark is no longer an option. I’m here. What are you going to do about it?”

“You leave me no choice but to take you into protective custody.”

“You’re arresting me?”

“There’s no need to be melodramatic. The only restriction is that you won’t be allowed to talk to anyone. You’ll be kept in comfortable accommodations, and it will only be for about a week.”

Overwhelmed by rage, she saw red. “You can’t do that.”

“Actually, I can.”

“What about my work?”

“We’ll handle it,” Hawthorne said. “This is inconvenient for all of us. It would have been easier if you’d just stayed in the interrogation room.” She shot an accusing glance toward Phillips.

“Don’t blame him,” Sidney said. “After I saw the photos you took in the rebel camp, I took off running. I had a question for you.”

“Go ahead and ask.”

“I wanted to know if you’d seen my fiancé.” She turned toward Nick, who had remained silent throughout this exchange. “The answer is obvious.”

He came toward her and slipped his arm around her waist, a familiar gesture. Leaning against his chest, she was more comfortable than she’d been in half a year. Their bodies fit together so nicely.

His deep voice rumbled. “There’s no reason for Sidney to be detained. She doesn’t know anything about my assignment, except that I’m back in town. Hurtado and the rebels are aware of that fact.”

“I don’t want her talking to anyone.”

“A simple instruction,” Nick said. “She can handle it.”

“Unacceptable,” Hawthorne said. “I don’t believe she can be trusted. She’s a civilian.”

“Which is why you can’t take her into custody against her will,” Nick said. “You’re right about me. I’m obligated to follow orders. But Sidney wants to be home.”

She appreciated the way he was taking care of her, putting her comfort ahead of his own. She tilted her head back so she could see him. “I haven’t done much with the house.”

Before he’d left, they’d purchased a bungalow together. She had intended to use the time while he was on deployment to do some decorating, but when he’d gone missing, she couldn’t bear to make any new purchases. Cardboard boxes still packed with their belongings were stacked in every room of the house. In spite of a lovely walk-in closet, she was living out of a suitcase.

“I’ve been dreaming about our house,” he whispered, “coming home and finding you waiting for me in the bedroom.”

The tone of his voice hit precisely the right chords inside her. His words were music that touched her soul. She knew there was only one way she could be certain that everything was all right between them. She needed to kiss him.

“Try to understand,” the lieutenant said. “The CIA is running this show. We need to do all we can to help them.”

“Yes, sir,” Nick said, “and I’m not refusing. But I want Sidney to be comfortable. She’s been through enough.”

“I agree,” the lieutenant said. “It’s important to be sensitive to the needs of the family.”

“What if she’s in danger?” Phillips asked. “The rebels could kidnap her and use her to influence you.”

“If that’s true,” Nick said, “why wasn’t she under protection before?”

She listened with half an ear to their discussion. The rest of her mind focused on one goal: kiss him, kiss him, kiss him. If she could feel his lips on hers and know their relationship was okay, she could handle anything.

Special Agent Hawthorne stomped around her desk and took a position behind it. The only overt signs of her anger were the flaring of her nostrils and a sharp gleam in her flinty eyes. Her voice was low, monotone. “I will agree to send Ms. Parker home while Captain Corelli stays in protective custody. There will be no communication between them unless it’s cleared through me. Phillips will accompany her and keep an eye on her. Is that satisfactory?”

“It works for me,” Nick said.

“And for me,” she said.

She shifted her position within his embrace, turned toward him and tilted her head upward. Her eyelids closed, and her lips parted. The office wasn’t an appropriate place for their first kiss, but she couldn’t take the chance that Hawthorne would tear Nick away from her.

When his mouth joined with hers, a sweet rush of warmth spread through her body. His lips were firm. His taste always reminded her of honeysuckle. His scent was a pine forest after a rain. He held her with a perfect balance of strength and gentleness.

Even on a bummer day when he wasn’t in the mood, Nick was the most irresistible kisser she’d ever known. Though his lips pressed against hers and invited her to respond, he seemed...detached. This kiss wasn’t exactly right.

Silently, she cursed her eidetic memory that had recorded every nuance of their lovemaking in indelible detail. She missed the light scrape of his teeth against her lower lip, the quick stroke of his tongue and the fire.

Embarrassed, she pulled away. What had she been expecting? He certainly wasn’t going to give her the kind of kiss she wanted while standing in an office surrounded by intelligence agents. This was no basis for judgment.

* * *

IN THE BACKSEAT of an unmarked SUV, Sidney sat beside Nick on their way to drop her off at their house. An agent she’d never met before was driving, and Phillips sat beside him in the passenger seat.

“Special Agent Phillips,” she said, leaning forward to speak to him. “Thank you.”

“It didn’t feel right to keep you in the dark,” he said. “I’m surprised y’all got Hawthorne to make a concession.”

“She’s a hard nut to crack.”

“Just doing her job,” Phillips drawled.

Though wearing her seat belt, her shoulder rubbed against Nick’s and her naked thigh grazed the fabric of his trousers. She could feel him watching her.

“Interesting outfit,” he said, “I never thought you went in for gingham.”

“I have a new job at the Silver Star Saloon, night shift.”

“Why?”

“It’s kind of fun,” she said, avoiding the sad truth. “The place is a microbrewery with ninety-nine different brands of beer, and I like to take big orders and show off by remembering every last one of them.”