Hart's Last Stand

“I thought you might have changed your mind.” He strode past her and into the room. “Maybe figured out that your lies weren’t going to work.”

Lies? Shock, then anger sped through her veins, burning away every molecule of caution and rationale, and dousing the desire that had been smoldering within her ever since the moment she’d stepped from her plane and saw him walking toward her.

She closed the door and turned, struggling to remain calm and resist the urge to stalk across the room and slap his face.

Anger gave her strength, and that allowed her to ignore her fears, at least for the moment. “I know what I’ve said sounds incredible, Hart, but I thought if anyone would or could believe me, it would you. You were Rick’s best friend. But—” she shrugged and glared at him “—if you don’t believe me, if you really think I lied, then I’ve obviously wasted your time and mine by coming here, and there’s nothing left for us to talk about.”

“Yes, there is.” His eyes held hers, refusing to let her look away, forcing her to face the disdain and resentment he’d lived with for the past year.

Suzanne felt her breath nearly desert her, along with her anger. After a moment that seemed an eternity, she tore her gaze from his and moved toward a chair, twisting her hands together, then thought better of sitting down and paused beside the faux fireplace. It was only because she still found him physically attractive that her emotions were in such a tangle. She should have expected that.

“I made a few phone calls after you left my office earlier,” he said, still standing in the center of the room.

She looked at him, wary again. Uncertain what to expect. “And?”

“Let’s just say that I know there is something going on.”

“Something,” she repeated slowly. “But you don’t believe what I told you?”

She saw the anger that flashed back into his eyes. “Rick is dead, Suzanne. He was the one flying his Cobra that day, not some doppelganger or science-lab clone. It was Rick, and there’s no way he survived that crash.” Hart shook his head. “No way. Which means there is absolutely no way he could have stolen those plans and be selling them now. And I’m pretty sure the feds aren’t so stupid they’d believe that, anyway.”

“Then who?” Suzanne asked, and added silently, Other than you?

He stared at her, and she suddenly realized that he suspected her. She felt her jaw drop, her hope shrivel and die. “You can’t… No, I don’t believe…” She shook her head. “You can’t really think I did it! How could I have stolen plans that were on that mission? I wasn’t there.”

Hart’s face remained a cold mask of scorn. “I don’t know. But I know Rick didn’t do it.”

She sagged against the fireplace. He wasn’t going to help her prove her innocence. He was going to damn her. The prospect of actually being charged with treason, followed by a life in prison, loomed before her, bringing a chill to her veins and a terror into her heart like none she’d ever felt before.

“But what I think or even know at this point doesn’t matter,” Hart added, his tone as hard as the glint in his eyes.

Suzanne looked up in surprise, not understanding what he meant, but feeling an unreasonable spark of hope.

“They think I’m in on it with you.”

Shock rendered her nearly speechless. “What?”

He watched her closely, saw the disbelief and surprise that pulled at her features, but knew he couldn’t believe everything he saw or heard. At least not yet, and especially not from her.

Suzanne sank onto a chair, her legs suddenly too weak to support her. The thought that the FBI would suspect him of being her accomplice had never crossed her mind. “Oh, Hart, I’m sorry. I never should have come to you. I never meant…”

To kill Rick? To get caught? To make me want you? The words screamed in Hart’s mind, but not from his lips. “I ordered my aide to do a background investigation on Rick. I should have it by morning.” He didn’t mention that he’d ordered one on her, too.

She looked up at him, puzzled. “Why? You know Rick was a good soldier, and you said you saw his chopper go down. You said it exploded. You said no one—”

“I know what I said,” Hart snapped, struggling to control his temper and hang on to at least a thread of patience. “But the feds don’t believe he’s dead, and I couldn’t think of anywhere else to start.”

Suzanne nodded.

“I’ll go over the report in the morning, then decide what to do from there.”

“I’d like to see it, too.”

He frowned, instantly suspicious. “Why?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know, really. I just know I have to be involved with whatever you’re going to do about this mess. It’s my fault you’ve been drawn into it. I shouldn’t have come here.”

He sat down in the chair across from her. Play their game. It was one of the first things he’d been taught in POW training. Play your enemy’s game and get inside their head. It was a soldier’s best chance of survival.

But he’d never lusted after any of his enemies.

He purposely softened his tone. “It wouldn’t have mattered whether you came here or not,” he said. “I was already being investigated.”

“You were?” She frowned. Could she believe him or was it a lie to throw her off guard? “But why? By whom?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know.” He sat on the edge of his chair, arms resting on his thighs, and leaned slightly toward her. “Did Rick mention anything unusual to you the day before we left on that last mission?” He started to reach for her hand, then caught himself. “Think, Suzanne. It could be important. Did he say or do anything out of the ordinary?”

He demanded a divorce. She shook her head again. “No. Why?”

She was lying. He’d sensed it in her hesitation before answering, saw it in her eyes.

“I think something was bothering him that last day,” Hart said.

She looked at him. How much did he really know?

Chapter 3

Hart paced the small sitting area of Suzanne’s hotel room, struggling against his frustrations, against the resentment and anger that were roiling inside him and that he was trying not to let her see. He wasn’t getting anywhere, and the longer they talked, the longer he looked into those fathomless brown eyes, the more he felt torn between ugly suspicion and the unfounded desire to believe her.

She set her glass of water on the coffee table, and he paused, turning at the sound of glass on glass. His dark gaze met hers, and for a split second he thought he saw the passion and mistrust he knew was most likely mirrored in his own eyes.

“I shouldn’t have come back,” she said again, though she wasn’t really talking to him.

Hart slid a hand through his hair as he contemplated his next move. He knew how to play the game as well as anyone. Better, actually. And it was definitely time to play. He closed the distance between them and knelt in front of her. “Suzanne.”

Innocence or treachery? Which was it that shone from those infinite depths, that coated her words, that hid behind that tantalizing smile?

He reached for her, and the moment his hand touched hers, and without warning, all the old feelings of desire welled up inside him, stronger than ever, a scorching inferno that instantly began to war with his suspicions of betrayal.

He’d meant the gesture merely as a way to get her confidence and trust. But it had been a mistake, one he had no doubt now would end up costing him dearly.

With an effort of concentration and training he pulled on the cold mantle he normally assumed when readying for a mission that would take him into battle—and possibly take his life—and shrugged the unwanted feelings of desire aside. He needed to stay focused. To remember that she was likely the most dangerous enemy he’d ever faced.

That caution might be all that stood between his life and his death.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I know you’re scared, Suzanne, and I shouldn’t have accused you of lying. It was a stupid thing to do. But you can understand, can’t you? I mean, this whole thing sounds so unbelievable. I was taken back. I felt I had to test you.”

He saw the wariness in her eyes. The fear. But was she afraid of him? Or afraid she wouldn’t succeed in fooling him?