Navajo Echoes

“That was before somebody sabotaged our plane. The bad guys know who we are. There’s no need to maintain undercover roles.”

“Stop right there, rookie. It’s dangerous to make assumptions without all the facts.”

“The sabotaged plane is a fact.”

“But we don’t know the motivation. It’s possible that we weren’t the target. Somebody might have been after Edgar. I’ll bet he’s got a few enemies.”

“Safe bet,” she said. “But why would they choose this moment to attack him? When we were in the plane?”

“Coincidence.”

She scoffed. “I don’t believe in coincidence.”

With one hand fisted on her hip, her sharp little chin lifted, and her glare intensified. Clearly, she was moving into a confrontational posture.

And he didn’t have patience to deal with an argument. In the crash, he’d been tossed around like a sock in a washing machine. His body ached, and his muscles were stiffening up.

Ignoring her, he strolled toward the Jacuzzi. Steaming jets of water seemed like good therapy.

“When I was a cop,” she said, “I learned one important thing. The most obvious solution is usually the correct solution. Because we were in the plane, the sabotage was meant for us.”

“You’re not a cop anymore. The work we do is more subtle. There aren’t as many hard-and-fast rules.”

“I know. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to work at PPS.”

“Keep your mind open to the possibilities. All the possibilities. You’re smart enough to figure things out, and I want to hear what you’re thinking. But I have one hard-and-fast rule.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m in charge.”

“Yes, sir.”

Her tone was clipped, and he could tell that he was making her angry. Too bad. He was too worn out to be subtle with his explanations. “Here’s what’s going to happen. We make no assumptions until we talk to Robert and find out what his plan is. Tonight, we will parade around like a couple of dewy-eyed newlyweds. At midnight, we go to Pirate’s Cove and meet Robert. Is that clear?”

Her full lips pinched together. A pink flush crept up her throat. “Perfectly clear.”

John leaned across the Jacuzzi and turned on the faucets. The gush of water into the red, heart-shaped tub looked like a giant mouth gargling. “And now, I’m going to take a soak.”

“Here?”

“Right here. Right now.”

He pulled his knit shirt over his head, revealing the waterproof money belt fastened around his waist. She’d teased him when he’d first put it on, called him a nerd. But this handy belt had kept his passport, his company credit card and his money relatively dry. He peeled it off and glanced in her direction.

The pink in her cheeks had deepened to a bright scarlet. Through tight lips, she said, “You know, this might count as sexual harassment.”

“Sue me.” He tossed his shirt into a puddle on the floor. “I’m tired and sore. And the dried salt water on my skin itches like hell. If you don’t want to watch, turn your head.”

She darted forward and grabbed the money belt. “I need your credit card. I’m going downstairs to the lobby and, um, getting something.”

He unfastened the top button on his trousers. “If it’s food you’re looking for, we can call room service.”

“Clothes,” she said. “I need something to wear. There was a shop downstairs.”

“Good thinking, rookie.”

As she fled from the room, he dropped his trousers, kicked them aside and stepped into the hot water. He positioned himself so the pulsating jets massaged his left hip, where a large bruise was already turning black and blue. The heat penetrated his body, easing the stiffness. Oh yeah, this was good. The only thing better would be if Lily agreed to give him a rubdown, which he assumed, from her rapid retreat, wasn’t likely to happen.

His gaze flicked around the room, resting on one heart-shaped object to another. This sure as hell wasn’t the way he’d pictured an idyllic island weekend with a lover.

AFTER SHOPPING AND DOING SOME serious damage on the company credit card, Lily returned to the ridiculous honeymoon suite to find that John had ordered room service. She took her own quick shower and changed before joining him at the table. Still irritated, she was giving him the silent treatment.

As the senior agent, he had the right to issue orders and decide the agenda, but his striptease went far outside the boundaries of acceptable behavior. And the worst part? He wasn’t even trying to turn her on. All he wanted was a soak in the Jacuzzi.

To be honest, she was angrier at herself than at him. She was the one who’d gotten all hot and bothered. When he’d taken off his shirt, her pulse had raced to a hundred miles an hour. Though she’d tried to avert her gaze, she couldn’t help staring at his bronzed skin and the defined muscles in his arms and chest. To see him naked? Oh, lord, she didn’t think she could stand it. And yet, she’d felt the urge to stand and watch, to climb into the Jacuzzi with him, to rake her fingers through his thick, black hair.

Primly eating the room service burger and fries, she retreated behind her familiar boundaries of self-restraint. Not that Lily was a prude. Far from it. But sex hadn’t been an issue during her college rebellion when she was mostly traveling and didn’t want to be tied down with a relationship. Then, she’d been a cop and spent most of her time hanging around with other cops. Any hint of vulnerability would have made her life a living hell. It was safer not to get involved.

And now? Maybe it was time to lose her virginity, to wave the white flag of surrender and succumb. But not with John Pinto. He was her coworker—a senior agent who probably wasn’t attracted to her the way she was to him.

Though she’d had enough time to calm down, she still couldn’t look at him without drooling. Not even the garish flamingo-patterned Hawaiian shirt she’d bought for him in the hotel shop dampened his outrageous sex appeal.

She forced herself to concentrate on revenge. Oh, yes, she was going to get even. She didn’t know how or when, but sometime—sooner or later—she’d get him all hot and bothered and then walk away. A dangerous game of sexual one-upsmanship. But he’d made the first move.

Apparently unconcerned by her silence, he took the last bite of his hamburger and checked his wristwatch, which was, miraculously, still ticking after the crash. “Nine-thirty,” he said.

Which was two-and-a-half hours before they were scheduled to meet Robert at Pirate Cove. She chose her words carefully; John had already warned her that their room might be bugged. “How long will it take to get there?”

“It’s about three miles from here. A forty-five-minute to an hour walk. Less if we jog.”

She groaned. Though she regularly ran a five-mile workout in the morning, today had been strenuous. Surviving a plane crash wasn’t part of her daily regimen.

She stood and stretched. “I need to keep moving around. If I sit too long, I’m going to stiffen up.”

“I recommend the Jacuzzi.”

“I’ll bet you do.”

She stepped through the sliding glass doors onto the balcony. The sound of calypso music rose from the beach where the hotel was sponsoring a party. A sea-scented breeze teased her senses. Though misty clouds drifted across the night sky, she could still see the shimmer of moonlight on the rolling waves.

John stepped up to the wrought-iron railing beside her. He had designated the balcony as a bug-free area where they could talk more freely. Still, he kept his voice low. “Have you checked the guns?”

“They’ll work.” The Glock automatic tucked into an ankle holster under her loose-fitting beige linen slacks was a reassuring weight. On top she wore a gauzy orange halter—a scrap of material that cost a fortune in the hotel shop.

“You look good,” he said.

Despite her vows of revenge, she responded to his sexy baritone with a shiver of excitement. “Thank you.”