Читать книгу Aim for the Heart - Ingrid Weaver - Страница 9

Hawk crossed his ankles and leaned against the door frame as he watched Captain Fox move through the bedroom. Like the rest of the suite she’d already been through, the bedroom was decorated predominantly in ivory and pale rose, with antique furniture that carried the dark patina of age. But the captain wasn’t interested in the décor any more than he was. She’d claimed she was checking for bombs or booby traps, and she appeared to be doing a thorough job.

His belongings were still in his suitcase—he hadn’t taken the time to unpack before he’d felt the need to go out for a walk—but even the suitcase hadn’t escaped her scrutiny. She was sticking to her story, yet the more Hawk thought about it, the more he wondered whether he should trust her.

That wasn’t anything new. He seldom trusted anyone. “Don’t you find it odd that out of all the soldiers who could have been assigned to guard me, your Major Redinger chose an injured woman?”

She strode past the bed to the window, tested the lock, then closed the curtains. “Not odd in the least, Dr. Lemay. I was the best person for the job.”

“Because you speak Swedish?”

“Yes, that was one of the factors in my favor.”

“What are some of the others?”

“I’m an excellent shot. And like many of the other soldiers of Delta Force, I’ve received bodyguard training from the Secret Service.” She did a final survey of the bedroom and its adjoining bathroom, then walked past him to return to the suite’s elegant sitting area. “And as I already told you, my injury won’t interfere with my ability to do my duty. The bulk of my work will involve coordinating security with the hotel and the local police.”

He pivoted to keep her in sight. Her inspection apparently complete, she unbuttoned her coat as she moved to the carved wooden wardrobe beside the suite’s door. He was relieved to see that she didn’t betray any difficulty moving her shoulder when she hung up her coat. While he still needed to be more certain of his facts before he could trust her, the pain he’d seen earlier when he’d grabbed her had been authentic, he was certain of that.

Her description of her injury had been curtly businesslike. She hadn’t wanted his sympathy. Why? Was it because she was trying to be professional, or because she simply didn’t like admitting vulnerability? Both, he decided. “Is personal protection your specialty?” he asked.

“My duties are varied, depending on the mission,” she replied, taking her cell phone and her gun from her coat. She closed the wardrobe and turned to face him. “But my specialty is intelligence.”

She wore a turtleneck sweater and tailored pants. Like her coat, they were black. Unlike her coat, they didn’t conceal her figure.

Hawk saw that her body was as feminine as her face, an appealing combination of slenderness and curves. Softness over strength, like the silk scarf at her neck that was a whimsical splash of color against the sober black of her clothes. Yet her appeal arose from more than her appearance. It was the fluid way she moved and the confident way she angled her chin. Although she wasn’t tall, she had the kind of presence that gave the impression of height.

She slipped her phone into her pants pocket and reached behind her to tuck her gun into her waistband at the small of her back. The movement tightened her sweater over her breasts. Firm, temptingly rounded breasts that would fit perfectly into his palms…

Hawk lifted his gaze to her face.

She was staring straight at him, so she had to have noticed where he’d been looking. She seemed to have guessed what he’d been thinking, too. Yet she didn’t shrink from his regard. She met it with the assurance of a woman who was at ease with her sexuality and saw no need to deny it.

Sarah Fox was an intriguing woman, a study in contradictions. She handled a gun as easily as a telephone. She had chosen a career in a male-dominated field, yet she was blatantly female.

What kind of woman would risk her life for a stranger?

Or had she?

Damn, he’d lost his train of thought. What had they been talking about? “You said you work in intelligence?”

“Yes.”

Pieces moved into place. An alternate explanation for her presence began to form. “It’s finally starting to make sense.”

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s why the government chose to send you here.”

“I told you why. While you are in Stockholm you are the target of an assassin.”

“And when did you first learn about this assassination plot?”

“Yesterday morning.”

“Yes, that’s when I was informed, as well.”

She shook her head. More strands of hair slid loose from her clip to brush the side of her face. “Dr. Lemay, why are you so skeptical? I would have thought that an intelligent man like you would have been grateful for our help.”

“It’s the timing that made me skeptical, Captain Fox. It’s too convenient. The government ‘discovered’ this threat to my life less than twelve hours after I refused their offer.”

“What offer?”

She sounded genuinely puzzled, he thought. Then again, what man would question anything she said in that smoky velvet voice of hers? He looked at the way her hair haloed her face, and he remembered the pleasure he’d felt when he’d held a lock between his fingers.

Was that another reason she’d been chosen for this mission?

The pleasure dissolved. He straightened up from the door frame and moved toward the sitting room window.

“Please, keep away from the window, Dr. Lemay. The curtains are closed, but the lamp casts your shadow on the fabric.”

He still didn’t have enough facts to form a definite conclusion, he reminded himself. He changed direction, crossing the room to the inlaid-walnut desk that held the suite’s fax machine and one of the telephones. He steepled his fingers on the desk’s glossy surface. “What do you know about my work, Captain Fox?”

“You research nuclear fusion.”

“My goal is to develop fusion power as an economically viable energy source.”

“Yes, I’m aware that you published a landmark paper on the subject several years ago, but you’ve kept your research confidential since then. That’s what you plan to speak about before the closing ceremonies on Saturday, isn’t it?”

“Correct.” He lifted his gaze to the mirror that hung on the wall beside the desk so he could watch her reflection. “Two days ago a representative from our government visited me at my lab in California. He requested that I continue my research under their supervision. All my results would be the exclusive property of the Department of Defense.”

She hesitated. “I wasn’t aware of that.”

“No?”

“No, sir. That information was not in any of the sources I accessed.”

“Don’t you find that odd?”

“Yes, it’s definitely odd. A fact like that should have been made available to me. You said you refused?”

“Yes. I turned them down. I gave them nothing.” He folded his arms over his chest and faced her. “Less than twelve hours later, they suddenly discovered someone wants to kill me. I find that odd, too.”

“What does that have to do with—” Her breath hissed out. “Surely you don’t think the government is trying to kill you simply because you wouldn’t work for them.”

“No. I don’t think anyone’s trying to kill me, especially not the government. They don’t want my death, they want my work.” He studied her face. “And what better way to get it than to place someone, say a bodyguard, in a position where they had a reason to stay with me night and day?”

“Dr. Lemay—”

“Even better, what if they sent a beautiful woman, one whose healing injury would arouse my sympathy? She would have unlimited opportunities to gather information. Not only about my work but about whom I associate with while I’m at this conference and what other offers I might receive.”

He watched her string the facts together. It didn’t take her long. He could see the exact moment she understood his point. Twin spots of color bloomed in her cheeks—he’d bet it wasn’t because he’d called her beautiful.

Her lips thinned. “You think I was sent here to spy on you.”

“Were you?”

Her jaw flexed, as if she were clenching her teeth. “My appearance, my sex and my physical condition are irrelevant. I am an officer in the United States Army. I am not a spy.”

“You’re not regular Army, you’re Delta Force. From what I’ve heard, you’re all trained in unconventional warfare. Your stealth and secrecy are legendary. You don’t play by the rules.”

“Sir—”

“In addition, you’ve admitted you’re an intelligence specialist. You’re trained to gather information.”

“Call my C.O.,” she said. “Major Redinger will confirm my orders. I am here to protect you.”

“But that’s the problem. Would he be telling me the truth, or only confirming the cover story you agreed on?”

The color in her cheeks deepened. Her knuckles whitened as she balled her hands into fists. “I didn’t risk my life by running through four lanes of traffic for the sake of a cover story, Dr. Lemay. And I didn’t knock you to the ground and add another bruise to my shoulder for show.”

Her struggle to control her temper was so obvious, Hawk found he wanted to discard his logic and believe her. “There’s another possibility. Perhaps you aren’t yet aware of the true nature of your mission.”

“I saved your life today, sir. That should be enough truth for both of us.”

“Who wants to kill me?”

“We don’t yet know.”

“What evidence do you have the threat is real?”

“I can’t give you details, but Delta’s intelligence-gathering network is extensive. Our informants let us know when Americans abroad are in jeopardy.”

“In other words, you have no hard proof, do you?”

“The only way I can prove beyond a doubt that I’m right is to let you be killed.” She reached behind her for her gun, glared at him for an instant, then turned and ran lightly to the door.

Someone was knocking, Hawk realized belatedly. He’d been so focused on this woman he hadn’t even noticed.

She pressed herself to the wall beside the door and called out in Swedish. A male voice replied. She took a long look through the peephole before opening the door as far as the security chain would allow. After a brief conversation, she replaced her gun at the small of her back, unhooked the chain and swung the door wide.

A thin blond teenager in the hotel’s blue-and-gold bellhop uniform wheeled a folding cot over the threshold. He smiled shyly at the captain, pocketed the tip she gave him and left.

Silence descended on the suite. Hawk looked from the cot to the black-clad woman who stood by the door. The flush in her cheeks slowly subsided. Her breathing steadied. She walked around the cot, inspecting it as carefully as she’d inspected everything else in the suite. By the time she had finished, she appeared to have her temper under control once again.

Hawk wondered whether she ever allowed herself to lose control completely. Then he found himself wondering what it would be like if she did.

She returned to where he stood, clasped her hands behind her back and braced her feet shoulder-width apart military fashion. She focused on a point somewhere behind him. “I will endeavor not to let your doubts about my honor or my integrity interfere with my duty, Dr. Lemay.”

Hawk raked his hands through his hair. She had turned his argument around. He tried to tell himself his skepticism about the death threat business had a logical basis, but that didn’t stop him from feeling like a jerk. “I didn’t mean to question your honor, Captain Fox. I was questioning your orders.” But even as he said the words, they sounded lame. “I apologize.”

“No apology is necessary, sir. Regardless of what you believe, I intend to perform my duty until I am officially relieved.”

“Captain—”

“This is nothing personal. If you object to the presence of a woman in your suite, I will station myself in the corridor outside your door.”

He’d been wrong. Her control wasn’t as total as he’d thought. Her pulse beat rapidly against the side of her neck. Her pupils had contracted to reveal flashes of gold in her green eyes. The elusive spice of her perfume mixed with the scent of hot skin.

Yet she’d been wrong, too. What was happening between them was definitely personal. It had been from the moment she had been willing to offer her life in order to save his.

Or had she?

He should send her away. Put an end to this charade here and now.

But what if he was wrong?

The question still couldn’t be answered with any certainty. And if he did send her away, what avenue would the government try next? Wouldn’t it be wiser to keep Captain Sarah Fox close until he learned what was really going on?

Hawk hated lies. His entire purpose as a scientist was to seek truth. So, not for one second did he believe the lie he’d just tried to tell himself.

His real reason for not sending this woman away had nothing to do with his work or his principles or whatever conspiracy might be playing out here. It was far more basic than that.

He didn’t want her to leave. Right now what he really wanted was to lean over and place his lips on that delicate, vulnerable spot where her pulse beat at the side of her neck and draw her taste into his mouth the same way he was drawing her scent into his lungs. He wanted to slip his arms around her rigidly held body and press her close until she softened against him, until he saw pleasure instead of pain from his touch, until he discovered what other passions she keep reined beneath her impressive control…

“Dr. Lemay?”

He shoved his hands into his pockets and straightened up. “You can stay.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“And I’d prefer it if you call me Hawk.”

“Sir?”

“Because I intend to call you Sarah.”

Her bare sole brushed lightly across the carpet as Sarah slid her left foot back and made a quarter turn. She shifted her weight, bringing her right arm forward in a smooth arc. She concentrated on her breathing, trying to focus her energy on the ritual slow-motion movements of tai chi. She often used the exercises to relieve stress, but so far she was finding no ease for the tautness in her muscles.

She had thought Hawkins Lemay was gallant. A gentle intellectual. A man of high principles. She had been impressed by the accomplishments she’d discovered when she’d studied his background. She had been determined to keep him safe, not only because she’d been ordered to but because she had honestly admired him.

Yes, she’d admired him. Who wouldn’t?

She hadn’t guessed that within a few hours of meeting him she would want to do him bodily harm herself.

How dare he question her integrity? If she hadn’t been on duty, if he hadn’t been the subject of her mission, if she hadn’t had the concept of personal honor drummed into her from the time she’d learned to talk, she would have…

What? Hauled back and slugged him?

That would have been dangerous. Not because he might strike back. He wouldn’t. She had recognized the way he’d been looking at her, and it hadn’t been violence that had been on his mind. Or hers, either, if she wanted to be truthful with herself. A large source of the tension that had sparked between them had been from something else entirely.

It had been sex.

Sarah wasn’t naive, nor was she a prude. During the course of her missions with Major Redinger’s team from Eagle Squadron, she regularly worked side by side with virile males in outstanding physical condition. She was accustomed to the effects of ambient testosterone. Most of the time she regarded the men as brothers, but a certain amount of low-key sexual awareness was inevitable. She’d never had a problem controlling it before. After all, it was only sex, not love. It was a normal, healthy physical response, nothing to be ashamed of and no big deal. She wasn’t going to let it interfere with her purpose now.

Call me Hawk.

She gritted her teeth. She had to think of him as Dr. Hawkins Lemay, Nobel laureate, renowned physicist and the subject of her mission. Even if she were interested, that final fact made him off-limits.

No matter how good he smelled.

She pursed her lips and exhaled slowly, trying again to relax. Stretch to the side, bring the forearm vertical, circle with the palm. She settled into the familiar sequence. For the next ten minutes she moved around the antique chairs and the spindly-legged sofa in the center of the small sitting room, her body relaxing as it flowed through the routine with practiced ease.

A low trill sounded from the table that was in the midst of the furniture grouping. Sarah hopped over the back of the sofa and snatched up her cell phone before the second ring. “Fox here.”

“I got your message, Captain. What’s the situation?”

It was Mitchell Redinger’s voice. Sarah shot a glance at the door of Hawk’s bedroom to verify it was still closed, then curled one leg beneath her and sank into a corner of the sofa. “My flight was delayed, Major, so Lemay had arrived at the hotel before me. There has already been one attempt on his life.”

“Report.”

She gave her C.O. a summary of the afternoon’s events, including the names of the embassy official she’d contacted when she’d arrived and the police officer who had been first on the scene. She finished by relating the security measures she’d coordinated within the hotel.

“Nice work, Captain.” There was a crackle of static. “Is Lemay cooperating?”

“Grudgingly, sir.”

“I have confidence that you can handle the situation.”

Sarah heard the note of dismissal in Redinger’s tone and spoke quickly. “Was Lemay offered a government position two days ago?”

There was another burst of static. “Say again?”

“Dr. Lemay claims to have been approached by a defense department representative who was interested in his research.”

“Yes, that is correct.”

“Is it true Lemay refused?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

Sarah felt a momentary unease but she dismissed it. She probably hadn’t been able to uncover this information while she had researched Hawk’s background because the event had been too recent to be on record. The Major might not have thought to tell her about it because he hadn’t considered it pertinent. “Just verifying my facts, sir,” she replied.

After the call ended, Sarah frowned. Had she been infected by Hawk’s paranoia, or had Major Redinger sounded more distant than usual?

She returned her phone to the table, propped her elbows on her knees and dropped her head into her hands. She wasn’t going to let doubts infect her mind. Hawk didn’t seem to trust anyone, but Sarah had always been able to trust the army. It was her family, the one constant in her life.

Do your duty like a good little soldier.

Her father’s voice played in her memory. Even now, she felt her spine straighten in response. She pushed to her feet and did a circuit of the room, then opened her suitcase, took out a copy of the conference schedule, a floor plan of the hotel and a high-scale map of Stockholm. She carried them back to the sofa and sat down to study them.

The bedroom door clicked open. “The bathroom’s all yours if you want it, Sarah.”

“Thank you, Dr. Lemay,” she said without turning around. “I’ll order dinner from room service. Is there anything in particular you’d like?”

“That won’t be necessary. How’s your shoulder?”

She rotated it briefly, realizing the increased blood flow from her exercises had dimmed the ache. “It’s much better. Thank you for your concern.”

“Is that the conference schedule?” he asked, his voice growing closer.

She picked up the paper and twisted to hold it out to him. “Yes. Now that you’re here, I’d like to go over tomorrow’s and Saturday’s events with…” Her words trailed off. She tried not to stare.

He was no longer wearing the wrinkled denim shirt and casual pants he’d arrived in. He was wearing a tuxedo. And judging by the superb fit, the suit wasn’t any rental. Then again, he didn’t need help from a tailor to make his shoulders look that wide or his chest that broad. The narrow satin stripe down the side of his trousers gleamed as he walked, emphasizing his long legs and the runner’s muscles of his thighs.

“Are you sure you want to do that now?” he asked. He flipped up the collar of his shirt so he could loop his tie around his neck. The ends of the black tie dangled against his shirtfront as he reached over the back of the sofa to take the schedule from her hand. “The opening reception starts in half an hour.”

She caught a whiff of soap. His jaw gleamed from a fresh shave. His hair was damp and combed straight back from his face, but he hadn’t been able to tame it completely. Wayward curls brushed the back of his collar.

“Sarah? Is there a problem?”

She stood. “I’m not anticipating one, sir. The conference events that take place within the hotel are low risk. I’ve been in contact with the hotel security staff. They have experience overseeing international conferences like this one and are accustomed to working in cooperation with personal bodyguards. They will be monitoring the perimeter at all times and won’t allow anyone into the venue without the proper ID.”

He looked at her, his expression unreadable. “You appear to be very competent at your job.”

“I do my best, sir.”

“Have you changed your mind about being my shadow? If you’d prefer to remain here because of your shoulder—”

“No, I came prepared to accompany you to every event.” She brushed the wrinkles from her pants, suddenly conscious of her appearance. She had removed her shoes and loosened her belt. Her sweater was rumpled and her hair was in tangles around her face. “I simply wasn’t aware that you wanted to attend the reception.”

He held her gaze for a long minute, then returned the schedule to her and walked to the mirror that hung on the wall beside the desk. He appeared to focus his attention on fastening his tie. “My mistake, Sarah. From now on I’ll try to make you more aware of my wants.”

It wasn’t what he said so much as the way he said it that got to her. Or maybe anything he said when he was looking so damn sexy would make any normal, healthy woman imagine he was talking about more than business.

Hawkins Lemay in a tuxedo. The impact of that sure hadn’t been in his file, either. Sarah allowed herself no more than a moment to absorb the view before she grabbed her shoes, picked up her suitcase and headed toward the bedroom. “I’ll need twenty minutes to change into something more appropriate. Please don’t open the door of the suite or go near any of the windows until I return.”

The hotel ballroom had mirrored walls, making it appear larger than it was, multiplying the sparkle of the three enormous crystal chandeliers that hung suspended from the two-story ceiling and turning the crowd that milled on the marble floor into a series of endlessly repeating fragments of motion. White-gloved waiters wove among the guests to offer platters of hors d’oeuvres and flutes of champagne. A string quartet played on a dais in one corner, providing a refined background to conversations that hummed in several languages.

The reception was an elegant affair, an international gathering of the rich and powerful. Money, brains, political clout—everyone here was a player in the high-stakes world of energy production. Some supplied it, some came to bargain for it and some were willing to wage war for it. Some, like Hawk, were here to speak of alternatives to the status quo.

The Stockholm Energy Conference was supposed to be a forum for discussion, although Hawk knew the most significant discussions wouldn’t be taking place at any of the public functions.

“Champagne, Sarah?” Hawk asked as he scooped a flute from a passing waiter.

“No, thank you, Dr. Lemay.” She didn’t look at him as she answered. She kept her gaze moving in the same slow, methodical sweep she’d been using since they had arrived. A miniature radio receiver was nestled in her left ear, her link to the frequency that was being used by hotel security.

He put his free hand on the small of her back as they strolled along the edge of the room, but she didn’t need to be guided. Although she seldom looked at him, she seemed aware of his every move and anticipated each shift of direction he made. He suspected he wouldn’t be able to guide her, anyway. She didn’t strike him as the kind of woman who could be pushed into doing anything she didn’t want. He placed his hand on her, simply because he liked touching her.

True to her word, she had taken exactly twenty minutes to get ready for this black-tie evening. Any other woman likely would have protested the short notice, but not Sarah. She had risen to the challenge and the result was drawing the attention of every male they encountered.

Her dress was ice blue and glittered as she moved, giving a liquid sheen to her breasts and hips. Her arms and shoulders were covered, but she’d gathered her hair on top of her head, baring her neck and emphasizing the graceful curve of her throat. Her skirt was a wrap style, overlapping at her right hip. The panels parted with each step, displaying a teasing flash of her bare calf.

But Hawk didn’t think she had dressed to entice anyone. The gown was a practical choice since the long sleeves would conceal her bruises. The slinky knit fabric would resist creasing, so it would travel well. It also would allow her ease of movement, as would the wrap skirt. The beaded evening bag that hung by a glittering chain from her good shoulder left her hands free. It wouldn’t hold much more than her cell phone, but he didn’t believe for a moment that she was unarmed. His gaze lingered on her leg. She probably had strapped her gun to her thigh.

He spread his fingers, enjoying the warmth that seeped through the dress from her skin. “Although you did mention that your appearance is irrelevant, I have to say you look lovely, Sarah.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I take it that uniform you’re wearing isn’t typical Army issue.”

“As a matter of fact, I acquired it for a previous mission. I was part of an advance reconnaissance team attending a reception at a dictator’s palace.”

“You were spying.”

She walked a few steps in silence before she spoke again. “We were gathering intelligence so that the dictator’s guards didn’t slaughter the American students they were holding hostage there as well as the assault team sent to rescue them. You might call it spying, I call it saving lives.”

“Was the mission successful?”

“Yes, Dr. Lemay.”

“Please, call me Hawk.”

“I’d prefer not to.”

“If you plan to spend the next three days with me, what would it hurt?”

“Our relationship is strictly professional, Dr. Lemay. It would be best if we remain focused—” She paused, her back tensing beneath his palm. “There is a middle-aged bald man ten yards to our left who is observing you. Five-ten, around two hundred pounds, stands with his head pushed forward, favors his right knee. Do you know him?”

Hawk sipped his champagne as he glanced to his left, although Sarah’s description had been accurate enough for him to guess who it was without looking. “Fedor Yegdenovich. He’s a physicist.”

“A colleague of yours?”

“Unfortunately, no. He considers fusion research to be a race, and he’s determined Mother Russia will win.”

“And the short, intense-looking man with him?”

“Earl Drucker,” Hawk said. “Of the Texas Druckers. His oil is running out and he wants to diversify into other energy sources. The deal he proposed to me last month was far richer than the government’s. He offered me a fortune in exchange for my research.”

“You’re a popular man, Dr. Lemay. Why didn’t you take his offer?”

“I’m not motivated by money.” He returned his gaze to Sarah. “But since you work in intelligence, you would already know that.”

She dipped her chin in agreement. “Yes, I’m aware of your financial status. The income from the patents you hold on your early discoveries amounts to several million annually and has allowed you to fund your research yourself.”

“Most women would be impressed by that.”

“If I were interested in money, I would have requested an assignment at the mint.”

“Somehow I don’t think that would have suited your temperament.”

“I’m also aware of the fact that you donate the majority of your income to various charities, including veterans’ organizations.”

“Damn, you really are good at your job, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” She met his gaze briefly before she resumed her survey of the room. “Judging by your record of giving to charities, you appear to have a social conscience and a sense of patriotism. Which makes it difficult for me to understand why you refused to accept the offer of our government.”

“Ah. So you checked my story.”

“Of course. No offense meant.”

“No offense taken.” He smiled. “After all, I checked your story, too. As much as I was able to, anyway.”

Her gaze darted to his. “What do you mean?”

“What did you think I was doing while you were going through your tai chi routine? I went on-line with my laptop to do some background research of my own.”

She raised her eyebrows. “And?”

“Your military record is impressive, Captain Fox. I take it your father influenced your career choice.”

If he hadn’t been watching so carefully, he wouldn’t have seen the chink open up in her controlled expression. He glimpsed a tangle of emotions. Pride, longing, pain. He blinked and it was gone.

“Yes, I admired the general,” she said. “It was natural to follow his example.”

The general. Not Dad. Not Pops. A revealing choice of words, Hawk thought. “General Bartholomew Fox, hero of both the Korean and the Gulf Wars, would be a hard act to follow for anyone. Especially a daughter.”

Another momentary chink. She looked away. “I have never shied away from a challenge, Dr. Lemay.”

“Neither have I, Sarah.” He stepped closer, running his palm up the back of her arm. “But I’m surprised you didn’t try to talk me out of attending this reception. If I really am in danger, if the threat to my life is genuine, wouldn’t it have been safer if we remained secluded in the suite?”

A light shudder followed his touch. “Would you have agreed if I’d asked?”

Hawk vividly remembered the way she had looked when he’d first walked out of the bedroom, with her hair loose and her feet bare as she’d curled into the corner of the sofa. She had been even more appealing than she was now, because she hadn’t quite managed to hide the spark of interest that had warmed her gaze as she’d watched him.

But would she have asked him to stay for the sake of her mission or for her? He dropped his hand. “Probably not,” he replied.

“That’s a courageous choice,” she said. “As long as the risk is manageable, it’s better not to give in to threats. The moment we let fear win, we’ve lost.”

“What do you fear, Sarah?”

“Failure, Dr. Lemay.”

It was an honest answer, Hawk decided. Both from the soldier and from the woman.

She pressed her index finger over the receiver in her left ear and stepped away to place herself slightly behind him. A hum of interest spread through the crowd.

Hawk glanced over his shoulder in time to see at least a dozen men in flowing djellabahs stride through the ballroom’s main entrance. They moved as a group, maintaining a ring around the tall, bearded man who walked at their center.

Even though it had been fourteen years since they had last met, Hawk recognized Prince Jibril Ben Nour, the next in line for the throne of the oil-rich Persian Gulf nation of Moukim. The beard was new, but the long nose and the piercing black gaze hadn’t changed. Nor had Jibril’s aura of privilege—he moved with the sure-footed glide of a man who was unaccustomed to encountering obstacles in his path.

The prince and his entourage swept through the crowd without pausing to speak to anyone. They appeared to be heading straight for Hawk. This was what he’d anticipated. Hawk placed his champagne glass on a nearby table and stepped forward to meet them.

Sarah quickly angled herself between Hawk and the approaching men. She pressed her back to his chest and nudged him backward, positioning him closer to one of the emergency exits that led out of the ballroom.

Hawk frowned. Under other circumstances, he would have welcomed the sensation of Sarah’s body rubbing against his, but he knew what she was doing. She was trying to shield him, and he wouldn’t allow it now any more than he’d allowed it this afternoon. He slipped his arm around her waist and drew her against his side.

“I don’t like the look of this, Dr. Lemay.” She curled her fingers around his wrist. “There are too many of them, and they’re moving too fast. Their floor-length robes could conceal anything.”

He moved his hand to her hip and held her in place. “Relax, Sarah. Nothing’s going to happen.”

She let go of his wrist and lowered her hand to her thigh. Her fingertips brushed the opening in her skirt. She didn’t relax. Hawk could feel a change in the way she held herself, as if she were readying for action. Her breathing became deep and deliberate. Her weight shifted forward to the balls of her feet. The spicy-sweet scent of her perfume strengthened.

In the next instant they were engulfed in a swirl of white. A nasal voice issued a command. The prince’s companions parted, then re-formed into a circle around them, blocking their view of the rest of the ballroom. One man grabbed Sarah by the waist and separated her from Hawk while two others caught Hawk’s elbows. It happened so fast, he was being guided toward the exit before he realized he was moving.

There was a low grunt and a flurry of movement on Hawk’s left. Sarah spun away from the man who held her, anchored her fist in Jibril’s robe and kicked the front panel of her skirt aside. A heartbeat later, her gun was in her hand, the barrel pressed beneath the prince’s beard. “Call off your men,” she ordered. “Now.”