Читать книгу The Untamed Hunter - Lindsay McKenna - Страница 9

Maggie rubbed her long fingers together. They were ice cold. They got that way when she was nervous. She stood in her office at OID, waiting. According to Casey, Shep Hunter would arrive at 0900, and after Casey talked to him, Maggie would be buzzed on her desk monitor to come to Casey’s office for a wrap-up on the final details of the mission.

Why, oh why, had she agreed to take the mission? In her angst, Maggie paced the length of her rectangular office, jamming her cold hands into the pockets of her white lab coat. Outside, the day was beautiful. The bright sun and dark green grass and lush trees made her yearn to be astride her Thoroughbred and galloping through the countryside. The sky was so blue it almost made her squint as she looked out the venetian blinds. Her heart and mind swung back to Shep. What a fiery relationship they’d had, each of them bullheaded, each so very sure their own way was the right way.

Maggie ran her fingers through her hair, which she wore loose today because she wasn’t going to be working in the lab. No, today was going to be spent arranging details for a very dangerous mission. Maggie told herself she had agreed to the mission because she understood the impact of anthrax bacteria being dropped by bioterrorists on some unsuspecting city. She couldn’t stand to think she would refuse a mission because the man working with her was an old boyfriend. Actually, Shep had been much, much more than that. Maggie had fallen helplessly in love with him all those years ago. He’d been a star football player while keeping his straight A average at Harvard. He was keenly intelligent, competitive, and he’d loved her with a passion that Maggie had never experienced since.

Sighing, she ran her chilled fingers through her shoulder-length hair once more. “What have you done, Maggie?” she whispered through tight lips as she ruthlessly perused her desk, which looked like a tornado had hit it. Restlessly, she picked up some papers and tried to concentrate on them.

The phone on her desk buzzed. She jumped. The paper fluttered out of her fingers and wafted to the tile floor.

“Oh!” Maggie whispered, scooping up the letters. She was jumpier than a kangaroo. Her heart was throbbing at the base of her throat. She knew it was Casey buzzing her. It was time. Reluctantly reaching for the phone, Maggie wished she was anywhere but here right now. She was actually afraid to meet Shep once again. Gulping, she picked up the phone.

“Maggie?” Casey asked.

“Yes?”

“It’s time. Come on down so I can give you two the final briefing on this mission.”

Shutting her eyes, Maggie whispered, “Okay…I’ll be right there….”

Placing the phone gently back into the cradle, Maggie tried to steady her breathing. It had been so long since she’d seen Shep. Had he changed? Had life softened him at all? Was he more inclined to listen to other people now? Or was he still arrogant and self-righteous? A chill swept through her. She felt fear—raw, unbridled fear. Chastising herself mentally, Maggie automatically touched her hair. Taking a look in the ornate, gold-framed mirror that hung in her office, she saw that her eyes looked huge. Like a rabbit about to face a starving wolf.

Her fingers were so cold they almost felt numb. She was unhappy with her reaction. She was acting like the freshman she’d been when she first met Shep. Back then, Shep always seemed to have the world by the tail. It was as if he knew what would happen next, planned for it and then executed it so easily that Maggie felt like an idiot in comparison. Hunter was always calm, cool and collected. Right now, as she swung out her door and into the highly polished hall that lead to Casey’s corner office, she felt disheveled, unprepared and scared.

Giving herself a stern talking to as she slowly walked down the hallway, she greeted her lab cohorts who passed, feeling comforted by the sight of familiar faces. The people at OID had some of the best minds in the U.S. They were at the vanguard of the attempt to keep people safe from killer bacteria and viruses.

Shep was a virus, Maggie decided with mirth. She was infected by him and hadn’t built an immunity to him yet. That was why she felt vulnerable right now. But wouldn’t eighteen years be an immunity in itself? Time was supposed to heal everything, wasn’t it?

As Maggie reached for the brass doorknob that led to Casey’s office, her heart beat hard in her breast and she quickly ran a hand over the maroon slacks she wore beneath her lab coat. Mouth dry, she closed her fingers around the doorknob. Inside that office was Hunter. She felt hunted, all right. Taking a deep breath, Maggie jerked open the door and forced herself to move quickly into the office.

Shep contained his surprise. The woman who walked resolutely through the door into Casey Morrow-Hunter’s office was even more beautiful, more poised and more confident than he could recall. Despite her small stature, Maggie carried herself proudly, that small chin of hers leading. The years had been kind to her, Shep realized with pleasure. He rose from his chair at the corner of Casey’s desk as Maggie closed the door quietly behind her.

Their eyes met for the first time. Shep felt his heart thud hard, like someone had struck him full force in his chest with a sixteen-pound sledgehammer. He struggled for breath as he studied Maggie’s oval face, her high, smooth cheekbones. The freckles across her nose and cheeks—those delicious small copper spots—were still there. He saw her nostrils flare. That was something she’d done when he knew her years earlier—something she’d done when she was afraid. Her eyes widened incredibly. He saw every nuance of every emotion she was feeling in her gaze. The fear was there, the uncertainty, the desire…yes, desire. He knew he hadn’t wrongly read what she was feeling. That made him feel good. Damn good.

“How are you?” he said, his voice deep and unruffled. Stepping forward, Shep offered his large hand to her. He saw Maggie recoil. It wasn’t so much her posture or any outward shrinking away from him; rather, it was in her jewel-like, hazel eyes.

Forcing herself to lift her hand, Maggie croaked, “Fine…just fine, Shep….” As her fingertips slid into his proffered hand, she was once again reminded how large he was. She felt like a midget in comparison. To her right, she saw Casey stand, a smile affixed to her face but trepidation in her eyes. Maggie knew she had to make this work for Casey’s sake and for the OID.

“Your hand is cold,” Shep murmured, stepping closer and placing his other over the one he’d held captive. So much was flooding back to him about Maggie. Oh, he’d never forgotten that whenever she was nervous and upright, her hands would turn freezing cold. As he covered her hand with his now, he also remembered how small and delicate and feminine her hands were compared to his huge, hairy paws. Shep strangled the desire to pull Maggie into his arms and hold her. What would she feel like? As warm and fragrant as he recalled? A hint of honeysuckle wafted into his nostrils and he drew the scent deep into his chest. He knew it was Maggie’s skin and the delicate perfume she wore. He saw her face turn a dull red as she tried to pull her hand from his.

Panicking, Maggie jerked her hand free from Shep’s. She stood there, looking up at him and thinking that life had made him even more ruggedly handsome than before. Those ice-blue eyes of his, so wide and filled with intelligence, now burned with a tender regard for her. His mouth curved in a slight smile of welcome. Hunter rarely smiled. She felt special. She felt enveloped by his intense interest in her as a woman. There was no doubt Shep was all-male. Very male and very dangerous to her wildly thudding heart. Rubbing her hands together, Maggie managed to murmur, “You haven’t changed at all, Shep.”

The corners of his mouth turned upward even more as he watched Maggie nervously rub her cold fingers together. “Eighteen years has done nothing but make you more beautiful, Maggie.” And that was the truth. He remembered the soft, young Maggie of before. This was a woman standing before him, mature and confident. He liked that. He saw her arched red brows dip momentarily in reaction to his compliment.

“Have a seat, you two,” Casey invited. She pointed to a second chair at the opposite corner of her desk, gesturing for Maggie to sit there.

Relieved, Maggie sat before she fell down. Just the way Shep perused her—with that raw, naked look that was so male—made her knees go weak. She gripped the arms of the chair, relief sheeting through her. Once more she felt Shep’s amiable inspection of her, but she refused to look at him. He was so damned intimidating when he wanted to be! Nervously smoothing her lab coat across her thigh as she crossed her legs, Maggie devoted all her attention to Casey. Shep’s sincere words echoed through her head. He thought she looked beautiful. Maggie wasn’t any cover model, that was for sure. She felt attractive, but not beautiful in the way Shep had suggested. Yet she sensed he was being sincere. That explained why her heart was galloping away within her breast.

People who knew Shep Hunter were often repelled by his glacier look, but Maggie knew the real Shep. Having gone with him for a year, she knew his expression was a façade to purposely intimidate others. He was afraid of being hurt, so he threw up this nearly impregnable don’t-even-approach-me kind of demeanor. It worked on everyone except her. She had gotten inside Shep’s considerable armor once. She knew the sensitive man who hid behind it, but his ego made him unapproachable. As she sat rigidly in the chair, her hands clasped, she wondered if Shep had kept his sensitivity. Or had life robbed him of that, too?

Maggie painfully remembered that when they broke up, Shep had left Harvard. He’d managed to get an appointment to the Air Force Academy, instead. She knew why: he couldn’t stand being at the same school with her. The pain of their breakup had been too much for him to deal with. Stealing a look out of the corner of her eye, Maggie marveled at how wonderful Shep looked. He was dressed in a pair of dark blue chinos, a white, short-sleeved shirt and a pair of jogging shoes—very California-looking compared to the more businesslike dress of the East Coast inhabitants at OID. He was deeply bronzed and obviously spent a lot of time out in the sun. His hair was still ebony with blue highlights, the short length and neat cut shouting of his military background. But it was the thick, black hair on his lower arms and the tufts of hair peeking out the top of his shirt that shouted of his masculinity.

Shep was still in superb athletic condition, Maggie realized. He had always been strong and sturdy. She recalled his football days, and decided he looked just as firm and fit now. She wouldn’t be surprised if he regularly worked out with heavy weights at a gym. Her mind continued to wander as Casey riffled through a number of papers on her desk. Was Shep still in the Air Force? Maggie had heard he’d become a pilot of some of the hottest fighter jets available. Was he married? She didn’t see a gold band on his left hand, but that didn’t mean anything. He could be living with someone. A twinge of jealousy shot through her. Surprised at her emotional reaction, Maggie felt very unhappy with herself. Why couldn’t eighteen years erase what Shep had meant to her?

“Okay, here we go,” Casey murmured, giving them both an apologetic look. Lifting out the mission brief, she said, “Morgan e-mailed this to me last night over a secure line. He wants you two to pretend that you’re a married couple from Atlanta going on a minivacation to Savannah. You will stay there, at a bed and breakfast near the heart of the city, and then, the next morning, continue your automobile journey to Hilton Head Island in South Carolina. You will stay at a time-share overnight, and the next morning continue on to Charleston. From there, you will go due north to Fairfax, Virginia, and the USAMRID facility. The reason he’s outlined his route is that it will make the best use of FBI help and protection. The roads you’ll be traveling are all interstate and therefore, easier to drive and easier for them to get to you if something goes down.”

Maggie opened her mouth and then shut it, realizing Casey wasn’t done as she continued to read from the document.

“Again, you are to pose as husband and wife. Morgan will leak out the entire scenario to Black Dawn one hour after you leave here. Black Dawn will know you are couriers in disguise. These routes will give them ample opportunity to strike at you. Morgan has given them your itinerary, route and time of arrival at these places. There will be satellite fly-bys to keep tabs on your vehicle. Each time the satellite orbits the earth, it will make a check on your location. You’ll drive an unassuming dark blue Sedan. Nothing fancy. He wants you to blend in and look like tourists on a vacation.”

Casey flipped the page. “Maggie, you will carry the aluminum suitcase, which is small and portable. It will contain the fake anthrax. The vial will be marked to make Black Dawn think it is the real thing, but it’s not. But they won’t know that they have nothing until they test it out for three days in a petrie dish.”

“Let Black Dawn get close to that suitcase.” Shep growled. He glanced over at Maggie. Did she know how very dangerous this mission really was? The thought of bullets ripping into her flesh made his stomach contract with agony.

Maggie nodded. “I’ll hand it over when the moment arrives, don’t worry,” she muttered. Just meeting Shep’s gaze sent her heart skittering. Why did he have to be so good-looking in his rough kind of way? He was no male cover model, that was for sure. The crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes attested to years spent living under harsh conditions. The slash marks at the sides of his mouth were deep with time—and the result of too little smiling. His prominent nose had obviously been broken several times. Maybe it was the squareness of his face and that granite chin that made him look like the untamed Rocky Mountains where he’d grown up. She knew he’d probably shaved in preparation for the meeting, but even now the shadow of returning growth gave him a decidedly dangerous countenance.

Casey nodded and flipped the page. “You will both wear flak jackets beneath your civilian clothing. You’ll get Beretta 9 mm pistols to carry on your person. The car will have bulletproof windows.”

“But not bulletproof metal?”

“No,” Casey said. “They’re doing what they can to protect you, but this is no armored car.”

Shep nodded. “I’ll do the driving.”

“No, I will.” Maggie straightened up, her anger surfacing. “I’m the courier. You’re the guard dog. Remember?”

Casey held up her hands. “I think there will be plenty of driving for both of you. This is going to take all your attention, your concentration. Each of you can drive for a couple of hours and then switch off. It will keep you fresh and alert.”

Maggie bristled. How like Shep to just walk in and take over. He was beginning to treat her like that little freshman he knew so long ago. Well, she’d grown up. She was damned if he was going to start making decisions without consulting her first! Glaring across the space at him, she saw him scowl. Too bad. He was going to find out that she wasn’t the weak little girl he’d met back at Harvard.

“Please understand,” Casey said, looking at Maggie, “that just because the FBI is working with us doesn’t mean they can protect you twenty-four hours a day. They are human. And so are you. There will be surveillance, but technically, you two are on your own. The cell phone has an emergency number you can dial if they attack. It may take fifteen to thirty minutes to get to you if something happens, depending upon your position when an attack takes place. The FBI can’t tail you or Black Dawn will pick up on the fact. They will be stationed at certain points along the interstate, on alert, if you do need help. That’s the best we can do.”

Maggie squirmed. “I understand that, Casey. But why have us married? Why can’t we have separate rooms?”

“Because,” she said patiently, “Morgan wants Black Dawn to think we’re stupid enough to use such a ruse. We want them to think we’re inept.”

The news that she would be staying in the same room with Shep was a shock to Maggie. She’d never fathomed such a thing happening. It was simply too much for her to imagine. “But,” she protested, opening her hands in appeal, “I don’t see the wisdom of it.”

“There’s safety in numbers,” Shep said as he met and held her widening hazel gaze. His conscience pricked at him. It was obvious Maggie wanted nothing to do with him. Her file said she was single, but it didn’t give him a wealth of information about her private life. Maybe she was living with a man? That thought didn’t set well with him. Silently chiding himself, he realized he was still just as protective about her now as he had been then!

“Safe?” Maggie’s voice was laced with sarcasm. “There’s nothing ‘safe’ about you, Hunter.”

His mouth worked and a corner lifted. “That was a long time ago, Maggie. I think I can control myself for your benefit.”

Flushing deeply, Maggie refused to look at him or Casey. She was making a fool out of herself and was old enough to know better. Knitting her fingers together, she said in a raspy tone, “I still don’t think it’s a good idea to stay together in the same room. If we had separate rooms next to one another, we’d at least have a chance if Black Dawn tries to blow us away. It would make it harder for them to get to the two of us.”

Casey nodded. “That’s the point. We want to make it easy for Black Dawn to get to you.”

Chagrined, Maggie saw the simplicity of Morgan’s plan. “I see….”

Casey stood. “Here is your wedding band set.”

Stunned, Maggie took the box. Casey went over and gave Shep one. Opening hers, Maggie saw it contained a gold band and a solitaire engagement ring.

“Don’t worry,” Casey said with a laugh as she stood between them, “it’s all fake. Plate gold and zircons, Maggie.”

“At least we don’t have to stand in front of a preacher,” she groused as she studied the bands.

Shep rose easily. “Here, let me put them on you, Maggie.”

Casey smiled down at Maggie. “Great idea.”

Stunned, Maggie watched Shep approach. “No thanks, I can do this myself.” She quickly shoved the rings on the proper finger. There was no way she wanted Shep to touch her. Already her flesh was begging for his touch. Would it be the same as she recalled? Better? Worse? Why did he have to move with such a boneless grace? For all his size, he reminded her of a lithe African leopard. She saw the disappointment in his eyes as she refused his help. Well, he’d better get used to it. She had a mind of her own and he might as well learn that now.

Shep stood watching Maggie. Her cheeks were stained a bright red as she jammed the rings on her hand. It occurred to him that he’d never met another woman even remotely like her. He felt an old ache from a wound that still scored his heart from their breakup. Only flying his jet, when he was in the Air Force, would assuage some of the loss he’d felt when they’d parted. But it had been a necessary parting. He and Maggie never saw eye to eye on anything.

Looking down at her, he met her challenging gaze. “Casey suggested we have lunch, go over the details and then start the mission tomorrow morning. How about it?” He saw her thin brows draw downward in protest and knew nothing had changed between them. She was nervously fingering the fake wedding ring set on her left hand, as if it were a germ infecting her. As if giving in to him on any point would kill her.

“Oh…all right. There’s a cafeteria in the basement. We can go there.” She looked at her watch. It was only nine-thirty. “Besides, it will be practically deserted now.”

“I had a nicer place in mind,” Shep said.

Rising smartly, Maggie glanced at Casey and then drilled him with a look. “The cafeteria is fine. This isn’t pleasure, Shep. It’s business. I want it kept that way.”

The warning growl in her voice made his gut clench. Did she hate him that much? Distaste was clearly written in her expression. But Shep thought he saw fear edging her gaze as she moved robotically toward the door. She kept rubbing her left hand against her lab smock. Fear of him? Why? He had a helluva lot of questions and no answers.

Following Maggie out into the hall, he told Casey they’d be back later. In his hand, he carried a black leather briefcase. As Maggie walked briskly ahead of him, a number of people said hello to her. He watched her face thaw as she cheerfully engaged them in conversation. Damn. This was going to be hell, he told himself as he entered the elevator with her.

Maggie punched the basement button and then made sure she stood opposite Shep. He looked very unhappy. Clasping her hands, Maggie internally rebelled against the wedding ring set. She kept running the bands around and around on her finger. The elevator felt claustrophobic to her. Shep Hunter filled it with his size, and with the incredible quiet charisma that radiated from him like a thousand glowing suns.

As soon as the doors whooshed open, Maggie strode confidently out of the elevator. Choosing a table and chairs near the window, on one side of the cafeteria, she sat down. Shep sauntered over and placed the briefcase on one of the empty chairs.

“Can I get you some coffee?” he asked. “If I remember right, you like it sweet and blond.”

Maggie sat very still. She looked up at him. She saw the struggle in Shep’s normally inexpressive face. His voice was low and intimate. Her flesh prickled. Oh, how tender a lover he could be! All that hard invincibility melted away to leave a man with breath-stealing sensitivity in its wake. Maggie found herself aching to be with that man once again. Stymied, and afraid of her own heart, she muttered with defiance, “Yes, coffee would be fine, thank you.”

He smiled a little at her petulance. “And if I’m reading you correctly, a shot of brandy in it to quell your nerves?”

Shutting her eyes, Maggie felt her heart blossoming beneath his gentle cajoling. No, Shep was still the old Shep she knew. Oh, how was she going to survive this? She was more afraid of him than the damned assignment!

Opening her eyes, she fearlessly met the warmth that now filled his blue gaze. “Right now, a shot of whiskey would be my choice.”

Nodding, he said, “I think I understand why. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Just watching him saunter over to the serving area, Maggie sighed. She was being nasty to him when he didn’t deserve it. Yet he seemed to be taking her in stride and not letting her attitude get to him personally.

When Shep arrived back at their table, he held a tray filled with food. He set a cup of coffee in front of Maggie, and then a saucer that contained a huge pecan sticky bun. He placed a second plate, piled high with fluffy scrambled eggs, six slices of bacon, hash browns and grits, on his side of the table.

“I’m not hungry,” Maggie said, pushing the plate with the sticky bun toward him as he sat down.

“I remember it was your favorite pastry,” he told her, unruffled, as he settled into the chair. The look on her face was one of puzzlement and heartbreaking sadness. With a one-shouldered shrug, he murmured, “But look, if you aren’t hungry, I’ll eat it.”

Not hungry? Maggie was starved for his touch. Even the briefest of ones. But Shep could never know that. “Thanks…you can have it.”

Scooping up a forkful of the eggs, he gazed across at Maggie as she wrapped her fingers around her coffee mug. “You still get cold fingers when you’re upset.”

Nodding, she took a sip of the coffee. “I switched to drinking tea a long time ago, Hunter. Being around you makes me want to have coffee again.”

His mouth curved in a slight smile. “So, is this good or bad, Dr. Harper?” he deliberately teased her. For a moment, Shep saw her shoulders, which were gathered with tension, begin to relax slightly.

“Being around you is like a bad cold returning.”

“Thank you.”

“Only you would take that as a compliment, Hunter!”

Chuckling, he spread some strawberry jam on his toast. “You haven’t changed at all, Maggie. I was wondering if you had, but I can see you haven’t.”

“Well,” she said under her breath, leaning forward so only he could hear her, “you haven’t, either.”

Gazing at her was like looking at a delicious dessert to him. “So, where does that leave us?”

“At odds with one another. As usual.”

“Eighteen years is a long time, Maggie.”

“And it’s like a blink of an eye, because you were the same then as you are now.”

“Thank you—I think.”

“Don’t start preening, Hunter, because it wasn’t a compliment and you know it.”

“How’s your coffee? Did I get the right amount of cream and sugar in it?”

Flushing, she refused to meet his gaze. Hands gripping her cup, she looked down at it. “Like I said, nothing has changed.”

“We’re older, if that helps?”

“Just more stuck in our same old patterns and personalities as far as I’m concerned,” Maggie retorted. She saw his gaze thaw considerably. When she realized he really wasn’t taking anything she said personally, she was stunned. Back then, he had. They’d fought all the time. Fought and made up. And the making up had been incredibly delicious.

“Maybe,” he said. “Life has thrown me a couple of curves. I hope I’ve learned from them.”

She sipped her coffee, feeling rebellious. Hunter always brought out her feistiness. Only he could. She wasn’t explosive like this with any other man she’d ever had a relationship with. Only around him. “Whatever the reasons, Shep, you bring out the worst in me. All we did then was fight, and from the looks of it, it’s starting up all over again.” Her nostrils flared. She hated it when her voice quivered with emotion as it did now.

Shep ate slowly, thinking about how he was going to handle Maggie on this mission. There was much more at stake here than she realized. He had to be the boss on this venture whether she liked it or not. At this moment, he wasn’t ready to tell her that. They had a day to get ready. One way or another, Maggie was going to have to bend to his way of doing things. Or else…