Donna Young – Bodyguard Rescue (страница 10)

Common sense told her the safest option would be to stay here with Roman until she could contact Cain. Still, could she trust Roman? And did she have the right to put his life in jeopardy? From what Marcus had told her on the phone, this Nigel Threader was a dangerous man. A man who wouldn’t hesitate to kill to get what he wanted.

Realistically, having an able-bodied male around gave the formula more protection. Roman was resourceful, intelligent and too chivalrous to turn away from a damsel in distress—or an ex-lover in distress, for that matter.

He was also connected. Most of Roman’s jobs were government contracts. It was very possible he would know someone who could be trusted enough to help her out of this situation.

Kate wrapped the thick bath sheet around her, anchoring it with a knot between her breasts and stepped onto the earth-toned tile.

A quick search in the bathroom cabinet produced a half-used tube of toothpaste. Smiling at her small discovery, she finger-scrubbed her teeth while studying her reflection in the mirror.

Grudgingly she admitted the drugged sleep had done its job. She looked much better than she had the day before. The dark smudges under her eyes were almost transparent against her skin. But the signs of stress remained, visible in the tightness around her mouth and the pinched area between her brows.

It wasn’t until she searched her eyes, finding the terror lurking in the depths of her pupils, that Kate made her decision. “You can’t trust him with your love,” she said to her reflection. “It will be up to you to keep your heart safe.” Tapping the mirror for emphasis, she ignored the smears of paste left on the glass. “But right now you’ve only one option if you want to save the world, and he’s downstairs.”

Five minutes later Kate pitched her beige skirt and matching vest into the bathroom wastebasket. The clothes were grimy, and too battered from her trudge up the mountain to be of any use. After a few minutes of scrounging in the bedroom closet, her search revealed only one other wardrobe choice—her brother’s frayed Naval Academy T-shirt, a pair of his sweats that had been cut off above the knee and an old, shriveled pair of ladies’ canvas shoes, a half size too big.

She tied the drawstring of the sweats tightly around her waist, rolled the cuffs, then donned the T-shirt and shoes. Her ponytail, tied with some extra string from her shorts, swished damply against her back as she descended the stairs.

After steadying herself, she noticed the unusual silence that filled the room. Uneasily she scanned the cabin.

“Roman?”

No answer. The nape of her neck prickled and her unease took a quantum leap.

“Damn it, Roman where are you?” she called, keeping her voice pitched low before heading for the kitchen. Empty.

Backtracking into the living room, she took a deep breath, trying to calm her nervousness. He wouldn’t leave without letting her know, she was certain. Which meant he had to be outside.

She scolded herself for overreacting and reached for the doorknob, only to smile at her silliness when the creak of the porch steps echoed through the door. Certain it was Roman, she threw it open in relief. “You had me worried.”

But it wasn’t Roman. Fear, stark and vivid, swept through her.

“Dr. Katherine MacAlister?”

Two men, modestly suited, stood in the doorway, both looking ridiculously out of place on the cabin porch as they presented their badges and identification. Central Intelligence Agency.

Kate remembered to breathe.

The older of the two, a tall man with trim brown hair, removed his mirrored sunglasses. His blue eyes flashed with impatience. An impatience, Kate noticed, not revealed in the politeness of his next statement.

“I’m Carl Dempsey.” He nodded toward the whipcord-thin man to his side, and the faint scent of peppermint drifted toward Kate. “This is my associate, Robert Jackson. May we talk with you, Doctor?”

She didn’t know what she was expecting, but calm civility wasn’t it. “I’m not sure…” Kate grappled for an answer while her mind worked overtime. Where was Roman? Her gaze quickly swept the area behind the two agents, but he didn’t appear. A bead of sweat tickled her shoulder blade.

“We can understand your hesitancy, ma’am, but we have reason to believe your life may be in danger.” Jackson spoke, his voice liberally laced with a warm, Southern accent that matched his blond, boyish features. “Would it help to know we were sent by your brother Cain?”

She was stunned. “Cain?” Was it possible he’d found out about her situation and sent help? Like Roman, Cain’s business put him in a position of making friends with high government officials. He could’ve learned about her disappearance.

She had tightened her grip on the door, ready to slam it shut, but now she hesitated. If they were working for Threader, they wouldn’t be announcing themselves, would they?

For the hundredth time, Kate wished she had her mother’s talent for reading people at a glance. Unfortunately, Ian was the only one of the siblings that seemed to have inherited that particular trait.

Kate stared into Jackson’s deep, brown eyes searching for the truth, but when he met her gaze, she saw only sincerity in their depths.

“May we come in?” he asked again, quietly this time.

Sincerity and sympathy.

Nodding, Kate loosened her grasp on the door and stepped back, allowing both men into the living room. “I’m sorry about my hesitancy, gentlemen, but I have to admit this is a little too cloak-and-dagger for me.” The click of the door’s automatic lock triggered a low hum of disquiet along her spine. Kate carefully positioned herself between the agents and the door.

“We apologize for that, ma’am,” Jackson said, his voice showing respectful, Southern decorum. He moved to the center of the living room, taking everything in with a brief glance before he turned to face her.

“Just a minute ago,” he observed, “when you answered the door, it sounded as if you were expecting someone. Do you mind if I ask who it was?”

The hum picked up its tempo.

“My brother,” she responded immediately, knowing Roman was her only protection if these men were here to harm her.

“You’ve been in touch with him then?”

“No,” Kate struggled for an explanation. “I left word for him to meet me here if his schedule permitted.” She tossed her head back before pinning him with her best imitation of her father’s business persona. “Why?”

“As we said, your life is in danger, Doctor,” Dempsey interjected and walked to the window. He eased the curtain open, addressing his next statement to the glass. “We’re here to protect you.” His voice, absolutely emotionless, chilled her.

“Your brother has reason to fear that a mutual friend of yours, a Mr. Roman D’Amato, is not what he seems.” Dempsey paused for a moment while he continued looking outside. “He was right.” He let go of the curtain, leaving it open and swung around to her. “But then I’ve never known Cain not to be right when it came to situations like this.”

Slowly his gaze circled the room, his eyes searching, the look unreadable when it rested briefly on her before continuing. Kate gripped her elbows in an effort to stifle the urge to make him stop.

He did, finally, in front of the fireplace. “You know, Cain’s invited me up here on several occasions, but I never could seem to make the time.” He picked up the framed picture of her parents from the mantel. It had been taken the previous year, on their fortieth anniversary. “I wish the circumstances surrounding my first visit could be different.”

“You know my brother personally?” She raised her eyebrow, deliberately allowing some uncertainty to show in her face.

“Over five years now,” he responded absently, continuing to study the picture. “Handsome couple, your parents.” He smiled before putting it back, an easy good-ol’-boy smile that set Kate’s teeth on edge. “I haven’t had a chance to meet them yet.”

It was obvious Dempsey wanted her to believe that Cain and he were friends. Cain had many acquaintances but few friends. Her brother never allowed anyone, with the exception of family, into his inner sanctum of trust. As far as she knew, his only close friend was Roman.

As if sensing her suspicion, Dempsey continued. “We met when he was working on a security job for the Agency. Hit it off right from the start. He called me when he started to worry.”

“I don’t understand,” she said, furrowing her brow in feigned confusion. “Why is Cain worried about me?”

The men shared a subtle look before Jackson took over the conversation. Kate saw the pass, tough agent to sensitive agent, but chose to ignore it for now.

“Your brother told us about your history with Roman D’Amato, so this might be difficult to accept.” He hesitated, clearly uncomfortable. “Several weeks ago Cain started becoming suspicious of D’Amato’s business activities. At your brother’s request, we did a little digging. It turns out that the man you know as Roman D’Amato is a man the Agency’s been tracking for a few years now. He calls himself Cerberus.”

He pulled out a small notebook from inside his jacket and flipped to a middle page. “We also believe he operates under the aliases of Xavier Roman, René Arneau and Ramon Cordova. He’s wanted by our government, and several others, for selling illegal contraband to foreign countries.” After closing the notebook with a snap, he placed it back into his pocket. “He’s considered unstable and extremely dangerous.”