Читать книгу Tycoon Warrior - Sheri WhiteFeather - Страница 11

Kathy wore her hair up again, Dakota noticed, but the dry Texas wind had disturbed it, loosening several long, bright strands. She wore casual clothes—jeans and a short-sleeved cotton blouse, her shoulder nearly brushing his.

A bronze statue of Tex Langley, the founder of the Texas Cattleman’s Club, stood like a monument behind them.

They sat on a park bench, but they weren’t lounging on a leisure day. This was business, another meeting place where they wouldn’t be overheard.

Sheikh Ben Rassad and his wife, Jamie, sat on the other side of the bench, a newly married couple looking far too much in love. Dakota resisted the urge to move closer to Kathy, to allow their bodies to touch. Although last night’s dinner hadn’t been a failure, it wasn’t a complete success, either. They weren’t exactly used to each other yet.

Dakota dug a booted heel into the grass. Maybe he should just kiss her and get it over with. Pull her onto his lap. Tug her hair loose. Slam his tongue into her mouth and devour the woman he had married.

After all, she was still technically his wife.

He glanced up at Ben Rassad. Yeah, right. Kiss Kathy now, here at the park, in front of his happily married friend. What the hell was he trying to prove? That he was an egotistical, envious idiot?

Dakota lifted a bottle of water and brought it to his lips, wetting his mouth and cooling his thoughts. Strange how things had worked out for Ben. The sheikh had been assigned to watch over Jamie when she needed protection, then ended up falling for her in the process. The feisty young woman had originally been a mail-order bride for Albert Payune, a union arranged by Jamie’s father and Payune himself.

Luckily, Payune had backed out of the deal and never pursued Jamie any further. Which, in turn, had prompted this meeting—second-guessing Payune’s actions—the man Dakota intended to take down.

“So, do either one of you have any idea why Payune had advertised for an American wife?” he asked, dividing his gaze between the other couple.

Jamie shook her head. “No, but we’ve talked about it. Tossed ideas back and forth.”

“Like what, for instance?”

“Vanity, perhaps,” Ben said. “Payune may have desired a young wife to boost his ego. Texas women are renowned for their beauty.” He reached for Jamie’s hand and held it lightly. “But there is also the possibility of revenge. Payune might blame the town of Royal for Ivan’s suicide, and he planned to take one of our women as payment.”

Dakota mulled over Ben’s words, deciding anything was possible where Payune was concerned.

“I tend to think Sheikh Rassad was right the first time,” Kathy said. “That Payune’s ego was involved.”

“Really?” When Dakota turned toward her, his hand brushed hers—an accidental touch that sent an electrical charge straight to his heart. He forced himself to concentrate on the discussion, but failed miserably. He noticed Kathy’s hand was bare. She wore no rings. The wedding band he’d placed on her finger was gone.

Dakota looked over at Ben and Jamie. Both sat patiently as though waiting for Kathy to expound on her theory. Apparently he was the only one losing his train of thought. Damn it. He knew better than to allow his heart to get tangled up in this mission. Kathy had left him, and that was that.

Tightening his jaw, he turned toward her again. “So you think Payune wanted an American wife to make himself look good?”

She nodded. “It would enhance his public image in Asterland. Queen Nicole is well received in her country. And since she is part American, Payune may have been trying to find a wife he considered comparable to her.” She shifted her gaze to Ben. “A beautiful Texan, just as Sheikh Rassad pointed out.”

Dakota frowned. “If that’s the case, then why did Payune let Jamie go? My contact in Asterland says he’s no longer pursuing a wife, American or otherwise.”

Kathy smoothed the wind-blown strands of her hair. “I don’t know. But I’ve always had the feeling that Payune is enamored of Queen Nicole. Of course she’s madly in love with her husband. She isn’t the kind of woman to have an affair, and I’m sure Payune knows that.”

“But he wants her.” And in Dakota’s opinion that made Albert Payune even more dangerous. Could there be an assassination plot brewing? If the king were killed during the revolution, Queen Nicole would be left a widow, free to accept Payune’s affection. And if Payune controlled the queen and Prince Eric, then, in a sense, he would control Asterland, too.

Dakota figured Payune had three options: overthrow the Asterland government through a revolution, dispose of the entire royal family or kill the king and marry Queen Nicole.

But how could Payune possibly think the queen would turn to him? If she loved her husband, she wouldn’t embrace the man who had assassinated him.

Or would she? Was Kathy wrong about Queen Nicole? Maybe the queen wasn’t as madly in love as she claimed to be.

Wives, it seemed, changed their minds about such matters. Dakota knew firsthand that love wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

They were both experienced flyers—more than experienced. Kathy had lived abroad most of her life, and Dakota was a pilot, a man who belonged to the sky. But not today. Although they rode on a private, luxurious jet owned by a prominent member of the Cattleman’s Club, they were anything but relaxed.

The pilot, thank God, was another retired air force officer, someone Dakota trusted implicitly. Flying to Asterland with Kathy was difficult enough, and the last thing Dakota needed to concern himself with was the competency of their pilot.

Kathy sat across from him in a cushioned chair. The jet offered an upscale, home-like setting, a penthouse apartment in the sky. Kathy fit right in. Dakota supposed he did, too—on the outside at least. He’d been born into money, even if he was the bastard son of a hard-nosed land baron, a man who’d left him a sizable inheritance. Dakota didn’t fashion himself after his father, but he’d done his damnedest to earn the older man’s respect.

Kathy paged through a magazine. It wasn’t difficult to assess that she wasn’t absorbed in its contents. Her mind was elsewhere. And rightly so, Dakota supposed. This mission had sucked both of them in, drawing them into an imminent vacuum.

Placing the magazine on a table, she looked up and asked, “Are you sure we’re doing the right thing?”

Good God. She had second thoughts? Now? They were halfway to Asterland. “What do you mean?”

“Not involving the king and queen. I don’t like deceiving them.”

“We’re not deceiving them. We’re keeping this mission under wraps to protect them. The less people involved, the safer we’ll all be.”

Kathy frowned. “But it’s their country.”

And she was thinking with her heart instead of her head, Dakota thought. Her friendship with the queen was blinding her judgment. “Kathy, we don’t know how many cabinet members are actually part of the revolution plot. If the king or queen put their trust in the wrong person, it would blow our operation sky-high. We can’t take that chance.”

And Dakota had some concerns about Queen Nicole and Albert Payune. “Besides, how well do you really know the queen? She could have stumbled into an affair with Payune. That might be the reason he quit looking for a wife.”

Kathy narrowed her eyes. “Queen Nicole hasn’t stumbled into affair, Dakota. I already told you she wouldn’t do something like that. She loves her husband.”

And I thought you loved me, he wanted to say. “So women don’t cheat on their husbands? They don’t get themselves tangled up with other men?”

“Some do, I suppose. But not most. That’s a man’s game.”

She picked up the magazine again, and Dakota kicked his legs out in front of him. A man’s game. Right. He hadn’t even looked at another women since she’d been gone. He studied Kathy’s professional attire, her slim, fashionable figure. When she flipped a page, he caught sight of a gold band glinting on her finger. She wore her wedding ring, the diamond and emerald design he’d had custom made for her.

Don’t take that as encouragement, he told himself. She’d put it back on for show, for the sake of their cover. “So have you been with anyone?” he asked, his voice gruff. “Did you leave me so you could sleep with another man?”

Kathy’s complexion paled. “I can’t believe you’re asking me something like that.”

He felt his muscles tense. Technically, they were still married. Neither had filed for a legal separation, much less a divorce. He had a right to know. “Well?”

“Of course not.” She lifted her chin and met his gaze, her eyes locking onto his. “What about you? Have you been with someone?”

“No.” He shook his head and made light of his loneliness, the years he’d waited for her to return. “The way I figure it, we’ve still got that piece of paper between us.” As well as the vows they had taken.

For better or worse. Until death do us part. He had meant every word.

She let out an audible breath, her eloquent vocal skills suddenly failing her. “I suppose it was best that we…discussed this issue. I…we…don’t need any personal distractions on this mission.”

Yeah, and wondering if your spouse had a new lover would certainly fall under the category of a personal distraction. “I agree. Now that it’s out in the open, I won’t mention it again.”

“Good.”

Her smile was tight, but the fear in her eyes had faded. Fear that he had been with another woman. The thought made him a little smug, as well as confused. If things like that still mattered, why hadn’t she come home before now?

Dakota dragged a hand through his hair. She isn’t home, Lieutenant Lewis. This is an assignment, a fake reconciliation. Get your facts straight.

They remained silent for the next twenty minutes, she, occupying herself with another magazine, he, staring out the window at the night sky. He would have rather been piloting the plane than sitting idle, thinking about how much he missed a closeness with his wife. Sure, they had spent some time away from each other, but due to the nature of his work, those separations couldn’t be helped. And their reunions used to be nice. Damn nice. Nothing like this one.

“Dakota?”

He turned away from the window. “Yes?”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me the Lone Star jewels really existed?”

While he’d been thinking about her, she’d been thinking about the recovered jewels. Well, at least one of them had her mind on the mission. “Only those associated with the Texas Cattleman’s Club were supposed to know they existed.”

“Because of the legend?”

“Yes.”

“So the story about that soldier is true?”

Dakota nodded. A Texas soldier had found the jewels during the War with Mexico and had brought them to Royal after the war, intending to sell them and make his fortune.

“When he came home, oil was found on his land. So he believed just owning the stones was lucky, and that they should remain in Royal.”

“And now the Cattleman’s Club protects them, and everyone else thinks their existence is just a legend. A story passed down from generation to generation.”

“Yes, but Payune came across the truth somehow.”

Kathy leaned forward, clearly engrossed in their conversation. But then she loved jewels, and the Lone Star gems were a rare, stunning collection. Too bad she would never see them, he thought. He would enjoy watching her eyes glow—those gorgeous green eyes.

“Any idea how Payune found out about them?” she asked.

“It’s possible Prince Ivan had something to do with it. When he was in Royal, he asked a lot of questions. It would stand to reason that he heard about the legend. He probably told Payune about it.”

“And Payune discovered the legend was true, from his comrade, Robert Klimt—the man who had stolen the jewels.” Kathy reclined in her chair. “I’m so glad they were recovered. They haven’t been safeguarded all these years to end up in the wrong hands.”

“Funding a revolution no less.” Dakota rose and headed toward a small wet bar. “Do you want a cold drink?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Then how about a cup of hot tea?” He knew she added one teaspoon of sugar and a splash of cream to her tea. He wondered if she remembered little details about him or if she had chosen to forget. It wouldn’t be hard to recall that he drank his coffee black or that he considered hot sauce a breakfast staple.

“No, thank you. I’m fine.”

He poured himself a tall glass of soda water and returned to his seat.

Kathy placed the magazine on her lap. “Are you concerned about the queen’s ball? I know how much you dislike social functions.”

Dakota cocked an eyebrow at her. He didn’t dislike all social functions, just the ones that required a tuxedo and served champagne instead of beer.

“No, I’m not concerned about it. I’ve been to plenty of fancy affairs.” And they made him uncomfortable as hell, even the familiar Texas Cattleman’s Club events. Dakota had spent more years in war paint and combat gear than he had in uniform. This ball, he figured, would be the worst part of the mission. Next to Kathy, he would probably look like a big, snorting Brahma. James Bond he wasn’t. Not all undercover agents were that damned debonair.

“So you don’t want me to brief you on royal protocol?” she asked.

Dakota scowled. “No, Miss friend-of-the-queen, I don’t. I know how to behave around royalty. As you might recall, I spent twenty years of my life serving in the United States Air Force. I’ve picked up a few manners along the way.”

She nibbled her bottom lip, then broke into an amused smile. “Miss friend-of-the-queen?”

He couldn’t help but return her smile. Kathy knew him better than anyone. She knew darn well how he felt about attending the queen’s birthday ball. “If the glass slipper fits, Lady Katherine.”

She tossed her magazine at him. He ducked and shot her a playful grin, recalling how many times he used to tickle her on the living-room floor.

Dakota picked up the magazine, his grin fading. Somehow those tickling sessions would inevitably turn into foreplay. Hot, sexy kisses. Rubbing against each other through their clothes.

He looked over at Kathy and noticed her smile had disappeared, too. Just as well, he thought. The less tender memories they made, the better. Because when this assignment ended, they wouldn’t be going home together.

The cottage the queen provided sat on a grassy cliff, the ocean below crashing upon a private stretch of beach. A cool, yet comfortable, sea breeze misted the May air, and clouds drifted lazily across an azure sky.

Kathy had stayed in the isolated cottage on several other occasions, and she adored the quaint, European charm. Window boxes displayed an arrangement of colorful flowers, and leafy vines clung to a white trellis. A scattered-stone walkway led to the front door. Inside was a collection of art and antiques, a cozy living area, two bedrooms, a fully stocked kitchen and two bathrooms decorated with hand-painted fixtures. French doors in each bedroom opened onto a lush, well-tended garden. A wrought-iron table sat amid perennial blooms in what Kathy considered an outdoor breakfast nook—a place to sip coffee and breathe the sea air.

The first thing Dakota did was search the cottage for concealed microphones, but Kathy expected as much. A frown furrowed his brow, she noticed. Was he preoccupied with the mission, or had he noticed the romantic ambiance—the vases of long-stemmed roses, the extravagant chocolates placed upon the master-bedroom bed? The big, quilted bed the queen’s servants must have assumed Kathy and Dakota would be sharing?

He completed the search, and she stood beside their luggage. “We won’t have daily maid service,” she said. “There’s a little bungalow behind the garden that was built as servant’s quarters, but it’s vacant. We’ve been provided with enough food, towels and linens to last through the week.”

“Good. The less people around the better.” He turned to look at her. “How did you manage that, anyway?”

“I informed the queen we wanted to be alone. She’s fanatical about seeing to her guests’ personal needs.”

He frowned again. “Of course, our cover. Sorry, it was a stupid question.”

With an answer that made them both wary, she realized. A married couple requesting privacy meant long, sensual baths, sipping wine by candlelight, feeding each other aphrodisiacs.

“I’ll take the smaller bedroom,” he said.

Kathy didn’t respond, instead she followed him as he lifted her luggage and carried it to the master bedroom.

He placed her suitcase and garment bag on the bed, then turned toward the French doors and gazed out. “It’s pretty here.”

She moved to stand beside him. “There’s a fountain in the center of the garden.” And she thought of it as her own private wishing well, even if her wishes had yet to come true. “This cottage is in a world of its own.”

“But it’s not our world.” With rigid shoulders, he turned away from the view, his mood switching from light to dark in one abrupt motion. “I have to meet with my contact soon. We can’t get caught up in flowers and fountains. We’re not on a holiday.”

“I’m well aware of why we’re here.” Angry now, she continued to study the foliage. She wouldn’t allow him to spoil the allure of her garden, a place where mystical creatures made magic. She wanted to believe that fairies fluttered around the flowers, and mermaids splashed in the ocean below.

“Kathy?”

She turned toward him with a hard stare. “What?”

He handed her one of the chocolates from the bed, an apology in his voice. “Truffles. They’re your favorite.”

She bit into the candy and savored the richness, the gentleness in his tone. “Is that why you offered me this room?” A silk-draped room with all the elements Kathy adored—scented candles, fresh-cut flowers, lace-trimmed sheers.

He smiled, but it fell short of reaching his eyes. He was worried, she realized. Worried about the mission, worried about being in an isolated cottage with his estranged wife. There was still so much distance between them, so much unnamed hurt. But how could she tell him that he hadn’t loved her enough? That she needed more?

“You should unpack and get settled in,” he said.

“I will.” She searched his gaze. “Who is your contact, Dakota? Have I met him before?”

He shook his head. “No, but he’s someone I’ve known a long time. A former intelligence officer, another skin.”

Kathy knew that meant Dakota’s contact was Native American. “Comanche?” she asked.

“Apache. Goes by the name Thunder. If something goes wrong on this assignment, he’ll get in touch with you, Kathy. He vowed to look after you.”

She didn’t want to think about something going wrong, but she couldn’t pretend the danger wasn’t real. A man in Royal had been murdered by one of Payune’s anarchists, and now they were on Payune’s soil.

“Is Thunder a mercenary?” She knew Dakota didn’t consider himself a mercenary because serving merely for pay wasn’t his objective.

Dakota nodded. “Yes, but that doesn’t make him someone you can’t trust. He took a bullet for me. I owe him my life. We even look similar, like brothers.”

Feeling an emotional chill, she crossed her arms. How many bullets had Dakota dodged? How many times had his life been spared? “Do you want me to unpack for you?” she asked, hoping he would understand why she had offered. She needed to place his clothes in the closet, his shaving gear in the bathroom. She used to unpack for him whenever he came home from an assignment. To her it meant he would be staying, at least for a while.

He didn’t answer. Instead he remained motionless, staring at her. Her husband stood so close, she could see every eyelash, every pore in his sun-baked skin. And now she remembered how it felt to stroke his face. That intense face—smooth in some areas, rough in others.

Kathy moistened her lips. She wanted to grip his shoulders, lean into him and press her body against all that male hardness, feel her bones dissolve while his tongue stroked hers.

“You better go,” she heard herself say.

She had no right to want him, not now, not after all the tears she had cried, the baby she had lost. Dakota would forever be walking away. There would always be another assignment, another mission—something more important than his marriage.

He left the cottage, and she decided not to unpack for him. Touching his clothes would only make her ache.

Hours later Dakota returned from his meeting to find Kathy in the garden. Rather than disturb the moment, he watched her. She stood beside the fountain, wearing a pale cotton dress that billowed softly in the breeze. Her hair fell loose from its confinement, long silky strands framing her profile. She belonged in the setting, he thought. The foliage reached out to her, colorful blooms and lush greenery graced by her presence.

He felt like an intruder. But he had some news, and it couldn’t wait. Bad news, it seemed, never could.

“Kathy?” he said softly.

She turned. “Oh, hi. I didn’t know you were back.”

“I haven’t been here long.” He hated to spoil the serenity, the beauty of what he had come to think of as her garden. Her enchanted garden. He had no right to be there. Dakota wasn’t a dreamer. To him life consisted of reality—hard, strong doses of it.

“Any new information?” she asked.

He nodded. “A valuable necklace was stolen last night, and Thunder is convinced Payune is responsible.” Dakota shifted his stance. “It belonged to the Duchess of Olin. A rare ruby heirloom that will command a substantial price on the black market.”

“Now Payune has another means to fund his revolution.”

“That’s right. He couldn’t get his hands on the Lone Star jewels, so he went after the next best thing.”

Kathy frowned. “How are we going to get around this? You can’t very well infiltrate Payune’s operation if he doesn’t need the money you intend to offer.”

“True. But Payune is still powerless until he fences the necklace.” Dakota felt a surge of adrenaline rush through his veins, nervous energy he couldn’t shake. This mission had become even riskier, and his wife was his partner. That thought didn’t sit well. “I have to retrieve the necklace. Steal it back, so to speak.”

Kathy’s face paled. “How’s that going to work? Payune will become suspicious of everyone who comes into contact with him. If the necklace is taken from him, he’ll know that someone is trying to stop him from funding the revolution. And it won’t take him long to look in your direction, not once you approach him with your cover.”

“This won’t affect my cover.” Dakota resisted the urge to pace, to stalk the garden path. “The Duchess has a paste copy of the necklace. It’s the one she wears in public, and it’s extremely high quality—identical to the original. So all I have to do is switch them. Payune will never know he was robbed.”

“Not until he tries to fence it and discovers it’s fake.”

“True, but that’s the beauty of this plan.” Because Kathy was still frowning, Dakota sent her a roguish grin. “Payune will think he nabbed the wrong necklace to begin with, rather than suspect foul play.”

She chewed her bottom lip. “It could work.”

“It has to. We don’t have much time. Thunder thinks the necklace will be fenced right after the ball. Late that night. He has a pretty good handle on who’s backing the sale.”

“The ball is three days from now.”

“Which is why I’ve secured a meeting with Payune tomorrow. I need to establish my cover before he tries to sell the necklace. If I wait to approach him, he just might put two and two together.”

A light breeze blew the loose stands of Kathy’s hair. “When are you going to switch the necklaces? You have to do it before the ball.”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’ll let you know when I’ve got the details worked out.” Dakota was going to need her help. And Thunder’s, too. It would take the three of them to pull this off.

He motioned toward the stone path leading back to the cottage. “Why don’t we go inside? I could use a cup of coffee.” He had more news. Something that would take an emotional toll on Kathy, something he hated to tell her.

While Kathy brewed a pot of coffee, a wave of homesickness washed over Dakota. Not for Texas, but for her. He missed having her nearby, watching her do simple tasks. Her feet were bare, and more of her hair had come loose. He could almost imagine them snuggling in front of the TV, eating popcorn the way they used to.

Life had never been particularly simple for Dakota, but being married to Kathy made the world a better place. She brought out the good in him. Or at least he’d thought so. Kathy must have felt differently. A woman didn’t leave a good man.

She handed him a cup of the dark brew. He carried it into the living room while she doctored hers with sugar and cream.

He lowered himself onto the sofa, and she entered the room and sat across from him in an overstuffed chair.

“I can tell there’s something else going on,” she said. “What is it?”

“You won’t like it.”

“Dakota. Quit stalling. That isn’t like you.”

“You’re right.” He wondered why he was trying to protect her from someone else’s life. “There are rumors circulating about the king and queen.”

She placed her coffee on a nearby table. “What kind of rumors?”

“That their marriage is in trouble.”

She pushed a stray lock of hair away from her face, her posture suddenly tense. “I don’t believe it. People like to make things up. Create scandals. That happens to every royal family.”

“Don’t hide your head in the sand, Kathy. Plenty of couples have problems. And royalty are like everyone else in that regard.” Our marriage failed, he wanted to say. And we were supposed to be happy. Why not a king and queen?

She thrust her chin in a stubborn gesture. “This does not mean Queen Nicole is having an affair with Payune.”

“I didn’t say it did.”

“But that’s what you’re thinking.”

“No, it’s not.” He was thinking about his own life, about why Kathy had walked out on him. He wished to hell he knew what he had done wrong. But now wasn’t the time to ask. Dakota had to concentrate on retrieving the stolen necklace, on trapping the revolutionists and sending them to jail.

This mission wasn’t about the hole in his heart. It wasn’t about the woman seated across from him, messy locks spilling out of her proper hairdo, her long slim body draped in a summer cotton dress. This romantic little cottage wasn’t home, and he would do well to remind himself of that. Every chance he got.