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“You would have to have a mind first,” she quipped, suddenly uncertain of herself.
What did a woman do with a man like this? Did she try to hold him? Let him go? What? God, she had no idea how to play the most important game in her life, even though she had excelled at the other games she’d attempted in her career.
“I have a mind.” He rolled her to her back, rising over her as he gave her one of those rakish devil-may-care grins. “And I used to have a heart. I think you stole that, too.” He was suddenly somber.
Bailey stared up at him, her lips parting in surprised wonder.
“Your heart?” she whispered.
“It’s very probable.” He winked down at her before bounding from the bed and striding across the room. “Showering with me?” He glanced back at her as she watched his cute, tight ass.
“Later.” She shook her head. She needed to get her bearings, needed to figure out where she was supposed to go from here.
“Later then.” He nodded. “I’ll step out and get us dinner after I shower. I have to check on a few things with a contact then I’ll be back.”
She nodded then watched wistfully as he disappeared into the bathroom. The sound of the shower seconds later had her blowing out a hard breath before she flipped the sheet over her body. A quick nap might get her equilibrium back. Besides, she was worn out, more tired than she could remember being in years.
A grin pulled at her lips at that thought. He had worn her out. Sated her. Made her feel treasured. She definitely wanted to keep him.
Long minutes later she felt the kiss on her cheek and his quiet “Be back soon, love.” The door closed behind him.
She was sliding back into sleep when hell broke loose outside. The explosion blew out the windows, shattering glass over the bed and lighting up the stormy night as Bailey screamed in horror.
Jumping from the bed, she jerked the sheet around her and raced to the front door. Flames were licking up the side of the bungalow where he’d parked his Jeep. The vehicle was a mess of twisted metal. Flames greedily consumed it and destroyed the fragile dreams she had been building.
Neighbors from surrounding bungalows were running for the driveway. Someone was yelling for help. Someone else noted in hysteria that there was a body in the vehicle. And all Bailey could do was stand there, her fists clenched in the sheet, her soul shattered.
This was what she got for wishing, for hoping. This was what Bailey Serborne got for dreaming.
JOHN VINCENT STEPPED out of the bungalow, whistling quietly, a part of his soul lighter than it had been in years. The Australian night wrapped around his senses, a cool breeze riffling through his hair as a smile tilted his lips for a second.
As he moved off from the door, the smile eased away. A shadow stepped from the tree line and rushed across the short expanse of grass toward him.
The contact he was supposed to meet in town reached Trent’s Land Rover in the driveway, agitated and obviously frightened.
“Thank God you finally came out!” Timmons Lowen was shaking from head to toe. His limp brown hair was saturated and plastered to his skull, his normally dull hazel eyes wide and glittering with fear. “Mate, Warbucks is on to us. They’re looking for us.”
Trent grimaced as he jerked the man beneath the awning of the house and gave him a quick little shake.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Warbucks was a shadowy individual—or several individuals—acquiring and selling classified American information and hardware to terrorists. Part of that information was a list of Australian Secret Intelligence agents working with the CIA abroad. Agents who were turning up dead.
Trent’s investigation into the Australian connection to Warbucks was turning up some surprising results, and information that Trent knew was more than dangerous.
“Somehow Warbucks found out what I’ve been doing,” Timmons wheezed. “They sent a guy after me. He almost caught me in town. Listen to me, Trent, we’re screwed.”
“What the hell did they find out?” Trent felt like shaking the little man. Timmons was obviously losing his last grip on the fear consuming him. Hell, he should have known better than to use this man at the hotel where Warbucks was suspected to be meeting this month with a broker who would sell the new information Warbucks had. But Timmons was already in place, and the best pair of eyes he had.
“They found out about it,” Timmons cried. “That I was watching for you. Who you are. All of it, Trent. Warbucks knows everything.”
Trent paused. “How did they find out?”
Timmons shook his head desperately. “I don’t know, mate. All I know is that it was from the agency. While he was in the bar looking for me I trashed his car and found an agency ID and pictures and info on us. We’re tagged.”
He had to get Bailey out of there. Glancing around, he watched the sky light up with lightning, felt the power of the storm, and knew he had to get Bailey as far from this mess as possible.
“Take the Rover.” Trent dug his keys out of his pocket. “I’ll met you at the safe house in Paddington in three days. Stay there, Timmons. Don’t poke your nose out the door. Hide the Rover in the garage and play dead.” He shoved the keys in his hands and pushed him to the Land Rover.
