Alias Smith And Jones

Either she was a world-class actress or she really hadn’t had anything to do with the canceled charter. There was only a flicker in her eye—there and gone so quickly he couldn’t be sure he’d seen it at all. “Suit yourself. But I think your time would be better spent getting your ship ready for the charter you do have. And since it seems to mean so much to you, I’ll agree to one and a half times your normal fee, for the first three days only. That’s how long the other charter would have lasted. I have to warn you, though. I’m going to expect exemplary service, and if you fall short in any way at all, I’ll be deducting a suitable amount from what’s owed you at the end.”

“Honey, my service is always exemplary.” Satisfied, he reached over and caught her hand in one of his, unmindful when her eyes widened and she would have pulled away. Solemnly he shook it, cementing their bargain, certain that she knew more than she was saying about the canceled fishing outing, or she’d never have offered him more money.

And he was equally sure that despite the inflated fee she’d agreed to pay him, he was still the one who’d gotten hosed on the deal.

Analiese paced her motel room, the specially made phone to her ear. It looked like a normal cell phone, except that a regular one would have been useless on an island without even one transmitter tower. This unit relied on waves from a government satellite to transmit signals to a totally secure line in a location that was kept secret even from her.

“C’mon, c’mon, pick up,” she muttered with each stride she took, and then stopped, relieved when the familiar fussy voice answered. “Sterling? Did I wake you?”

There was silence, then a long-suffering sigh. “Analiese. I trust this is urgent.” It didn’t escape her attention that he hadn’t answered her question, nor was she surprised. He was too well trained to give away even that much about his whereabouts.

All she knew of the man was the sound of his voice, which had helped paint the mental picture she had of him. From his proper British accent she had an image of a slender man in his midfifties with impeccable tailoring and a David Niven mustache. The reality was likely to be just the opposite. For all she knew, the accent was affected only for his phone conversations as a way to maintain his cover. “Have you had any word from Sam yet?”

His hesitation was its own answer, and desolation swirled in the pit of her stomach. “As I said before, I’ll contact you when—”

“You still don’t know where he is,” she said flatly. Her nerves churned and clashed like grating gears. And despite Sterling’s effort at an impassive tone, she knew he was as worried about her brother as she was. Or else he would never have called her at home several days ago to inquire, oh so discreetly, about the last time she’d spoken to him.

“I know the waiting is difficult, but I have no doubt that Sam will work himself free of any sticky situation he might have encountered.” If he’s able. Although the words remained unspoken, they eddied between them. “The best thing you can do is remain at home and wait for—”

“I’m on Bontilla right now.”

His sharply inhaled breath was evidence of more emotion than she’d ever heard from him. “Analiese, listen to me carefully. I want you to go home immediately.”

“I was able to hack into Sam’s computer files and trace him this far,” she said recklessly, stopping before the window to stare out at the waves with a sightless gaze. She didn’t bother to tell him that she’d been chipping away at her brother’s computer security for over two years now. While a great deal of it remained maddeningly encrypted, she’d pieced together enough to have a good suspicion that his cover as an international lawyer hid a career much more dangerous, much more covert. And that Sterling knew every detail about it. “I’ve set up a charter to go to Laconos tomorrow.” She thought, but couldn’t be sure, she heard a low groan coming from the other end of the connection.

“I don’t think that would be prudent.”

She whirled from the window, concern suddenly turning to anger. “I don’t give a damn about prudent, Sterling. My brother has been missing two weeks, and you don’t have the faintest idea where he is. Now, unless you’re about to tell me that you’ve got a search-and-rescue plan lined up, you’d better get used to the fact that I’m going in.”

“And just what is it you think you can accomplish there?” Sterling’s voice was harder than she’d ever heard it. “Sam has years of experience handling difficult matters while you…you’ve done only occasional courier work, which, I might add, would be totally against your brother’s wishes if he were to find out.”

“I’ll let you worry about that, since you’re the one who enlisted my services on those occasions.”

“A fact I’ve often regretted.”

If she weren’t so anxious about Sam she would have been offended. As it was she pressed her hand to her stomach in an effort to calm the nerves there. “You aren’t sending anyone in after him, are you?”

“I had some inquiries out a few days ago,” he admitted. “I learned nothing.”

She winced at the news, but if anything it made her more determined. “Then it’s not going to hurt for me to poke around a bit.”

Silence stretched, so long that she began to wonder if they’d been disconnected. When Sterling spoke again, there was a note of resignation in his voice. “It has to be done discreetly, or you could jeopardize his position if he’s still on the island.”

Analiese clutched the phone more tightly, aware that she’d just received as clear a go-ahead as she was going to get. “I can do discreet.”

Had she been talking to anyone else she would have sworn she heard a snort in the man’s voice. As it was, she attributed the sound to a cough. “Quite so. Listen carefully, then. You are not to swerve one iota from my directions….”

It was more than twenty minutes later before she pressed the button to end the conversation. Twenty minutes of directives, dire warnings and commands. She was on a fact-finding mission only, Sterling had repeated again and again. And the scope of her investigation centered solely on the whereabouts of her brother.

When the man wasn’t issuing orders, he was filling her in on a bit of history that might or might not affect her brother’s case. She’d listened because she thought it wiser not to mention what she’d discerned from Sam’s files. She had a pretty good idea of what her brother’s mission had been and, despite Sterling’s silence on the subject, an even better idea of the reason behind it.

She tucked the phone back into her purse and noted, a bit distantly, the unsteadiness of her hand. Among the details she’d failed to share with Sterling was the fact that Jones’s name had figured in her brother’s files for the past several years. And that she had reason to believe that Sam had used the man’s charter service to cross to Laconos. It was clear from his notes that the two had some sort of relationship, and she was concluding that her brother trusted Jones on some level.

What she didn’t know was the exact nature of their relationship. Or just how far she could trust Jones.

Chapter 2

Analiese went to the island’s largest bank the next morning and arranged to transfer money from her newly established account in the States—the one in Ann Smith’s name. As she completed the transaction she regretted more than once her agreement to a higher fee. Jones had been taking advantage of the situation, but she was no pushover. No, it had been her own guilty conscience that had led her to pay the inflated price.

It really hadn’t taken that much effort to convince the men in the fishing charter that Jones’s drinking habits made him an unreliable captain, and that they’d be better off with another service. And once she’d seen Jones at the tavern last night, there had seemed to be more truth in the story than she could have imagined.

The dock was within walking distance of the bank, so she strolled toward it, enjoying the sight of the brilliant white ships rocking gently in the water. She’d arranged to have the hotel send her bags over, so she took her time, loitering at the market and dickering with a local merchant over a necklace made of tiny shells. Minutes later, the necklace around her neck, she headed toward the docks at a brisker pace. She didn’t want to be late and give Jones something to snipe at her about. She had a feeling he’d already been regretting their venture before she’d left the bar last night.

Or maybe, she thought with a slight sneer as she headed in the direction of the Nefarious, he’d regretted only the necessity that had kept them talking long enough to have his skimpily clad girlfriend throwing glares his way every few minutes. The woman hadn’t looked like the type to suffer competition gladly, although she certainly hadn’t had any in Analiese. When she was interested in a man, she tended to pick ones who shaved on a regular basis and didn’t drink themselves stupid on their time off. Of course, that interest, if returned initially, usually died a sudden violent death as soon as the male in question found out who she was. Or rather who her brothers were.

Thoughts of her brothers brought a stab of guilt. She couldn’t blame them for their cautious attitude toward her safety. It had been forged by events two decades earlier. But understanding that didn’t change her feelings. As much as she loved them, she often felt like she was slowly suffocating under their heavy-handed interference. Her work for Sterling had been the first breath of freedom she’d ever known. It seemed oddly ironic that those experiences just might end up affording her the best chance of finding Sam.

Her bags were in a neat pile on the dock next to the Nefarious but Jones was nowhere in sight. His ship differed from some of the others anchored nearby, appearing to be as much pleasure craft as it was fishing boat. Ana looked up and down the docks and considered the risk of going aboard while he seemed to be absent. At some point she wanted to thoroughly check the ship for any evidence that Sam had been there. Although it was a remote possibility that he would have been careless enough to leave signs of his presence behind, she had to start somewhere. All she had was her brother’s planned itinerary, which had included the charter to Laconos with Jones, and Sterling’s certainty that Sam had docked at the neighboring island before his disappearance.

Analiese sent one more glance around, still seeing no sign of Jones. Tucking away a thread of trepidation, she went to the ladder on the side of the ship and climbed up, balanced precariously at the top. Turning carefully, she began to descend the other side.

“It’s customary to wait for an invitation before boarding someone’s ship.”

The sound of that sleep-roughened voice startled her. She twisted around in the direction it had come from, and her foot slipped. Arms windmilling wildly, Ana toppled from the step and had a moment’s view of the ship’s deck rushing up to meet her before two hard arms broke her fall. Her breath rushed out of her anyway, as she found herself staring into Jones’s enigmatic gray gaze.

He was very close. Near enough for her to note, with a degree of fascination, that his gray eyes were the color of smoke today, without the flinty hardness that had been apparent yesterday afternoon. Close enough to observe the freshly shaven jaw, with just the smallest nick below his chin. And definitely near enough to appreciate the effortless ease with which he held her against his bare chest.

“I was just…”

“Making a hell of an entrance.” He set her on her feet on the deck and took a step away. “I noticed that. Very graceful.”

Really, the man lacked even basic rudiments of civility. Giving a small sniff, she straightened her sleeveless striped top and made a point of brushing off her white shorts, wishing she could brush away the memory of his touch as easily. “I didn’t expect to see you about this early.”

He moved past her, climbed the ladder to the dock beside them. “Don’t know why not. We discussed the time we’d leave last night.”

With an interesting display of muscle rippling across his bare back, he hefted her bags and heaved them carelessly over the side of the ship. But it wasn’t the ease with which he’d lifted the bags that held her attention, it was the scar in the center of his shoulder blades. Even to her untrained eye, it looked suspiciously like a bullet wound. She didn’t know how she’d missed noticing it the day before.

He was beside her in the next moment, and she strove to recover thoughts that had become strangely fragmented. “From your state last night I thought you might be…impaired this morning.”

“You thought I’d be hung over,” he interpreted correctly. “Guess you were wrong.” He gestured to her bags. “Is this all you’ve got?” At her wordless nod, he picked them up again and began striding away. “I’ll put them below. Follow me and I’ll show you to your cabin.”

Ana trailed behind him to a small door, which he pulled open to reveal the companionway. Making certain to maintain a safe distance between them, she waited for him to descend before she attempted to follow. With the way her luck had been going, she’d slip and land right on top of him.

Below deck, her impatience quickly turned to appreciation. The area was compact but outfitted with gleaming teak trimmed with polished brass. There was a galley tucked into one corner, with a large table and chairs, couch and TV fitted into the rest of the area. Jones led her down a narrow hallway. “You can stay in here.” He opened one of the doors and strode in ahead of her, slinging her bags onto the double bed.

“How many does she sleep?” she asked curiously, entering the small space and looking around. Her oldest brother, James, had a sailboat that slept six. At thirty feet, it was less than half the length of the Nefarious.

“She sleeps ten total. The head is in the stem.”

Ana flipped through her mental files, searching for the ship lingo she’d picked up from James. “In front, right.”

“Since you’re the only passenger, I’m just bringing along one crew member. Pappy’s a pretty fair cook, and he’ll also help me with the navigation. If you need anything, he’ll get it for you.”

Analiese was finding it increasingly difficult to focus on his words. The quarters were small. There was only the bed, bolted to the wall, and a closet on the opposite wall, with a dresser inside it. The space was shrunk even more by Jones’s presence. The ceiling was low enough that he had to slightly hunch his over-six-foot frame, which put his face alarmingly close to hers. “Okay, then.” She manufactured a brilliant smile in a sudden hurry to get rid of him. “I assume you’ll want to check with the bank before we set out, so…”

Rather than take her hint, he remained in place. “They already called me. The transfer’s complete. So if you’re ready, we’ll pull anchor.”

“How far is Laconos?”

“Full throttle? Three hours or so. We can make it easily by afternoon, though, if you’re not in a hurry, and there’s no reason you should be.”

With effort she switched her attention from the shape of his full bottom lip to his words. “There’s not?”

He gave her a long look. “You said you weren’t meeting friends until tomorrow.”

“Right,” she agreed, relieved. Really, didn’t the man have things to do before they left? Starting with putting on a shirt? “Well, I’m sure you’re busy. You must have a million things to do. I won’t keep you.” To her horror, the words tumbled out of her mouth like a waterfall. “I’m just going to put my things away. I packed in a hurry, and I think if I hung things up they’d be less likely to wrinkle.”

To her relief he cut off her involuntary barrage of words by heading toward the door. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Come up when you finish and I’ll introduce you to Pappy.”

“Okay, then. Good. See you later.” The moment he exited the room she swung the door shut, leaned against it. Her knees were weak with what surely must be mortification. When she was uncomfortable she had a tendency to babble, and there was no doubt she’d outdone herself on that scene.

Blowing out a breath, she pressed her hand to her stomach, quelling the nerves that were still scrambling there. They were caused by nothing more than a minor case of claustrophobia, she assured herself. These quarters were small. Jones was big. Really big. Especially across the shoulders. And his chest was pretty wide, too, not to mention his biceps, which were…

Eyes widening with horror at her totally inappropriate train of thought, she pushed away from the door, crossed to her suitcase and began unpacking. She couldn’t afford to be distracted right now. Especially by the man who might well have been the last one to see Sam before he disappeared.

Not for the first time, she wished she could afford to come right out and ask Jones about her brother. But the risk was too great. There was no telling how well the two knew each other, or what their relationship was. She had no idea, at this point, if Jones could be responsible for his disappearance.

No, remaining covert was in everyone’s best interest. If Sam was all right, and for some reason had had to abort his mission temporarily, she didn’t want to end up blowing it for him. That was the same reason she hadn’t alerted her brothers. Cade was a New Orleans police detective, and James…well, James ran the family and their father’s business with the same ruthless rein. Neither of the men understood the word subtle. They’d have torn the hemisphere apart looking for Sam, and in doing so would have destroyed his cover forever. Better that she make some discreet inquiries first, and determine whether they had cause for alarm. And then, she thought grimly, shoving her emptied suitcases in the closet, if she still was unable to find a lead on Sam, she would unleash her brothers.

After she’d stowed the smaller bag holding her toiletries beneath the sink in the minuscule bathroom, she went to the door and peeked out into the hallway. If there was a trace of Sam on this ship, it was likely to be somewhere down here. And with Jones and his crew member busy above deck, there was no better time to look around.

It didn’t take long to explore the limited space. Unfortunately, her search yielded no hint that her brother had ever been onboard. But then, Ana thought, studying the last closed door, she hadn’t finished her search. Not quite.

With a strange reluctance she reached out, turned the knob. The door swung open revealing what was obviously Jones’s cabin.

The space was filled with a large bed, which was un-made, the pillow still bearing a slight indentation. Surprise surged. It occurred to her for the first time that Jones had slept on the ship. Maybe he even lived on it. Suddenly the area took on an almost suffocating intimacy.

To distract herself she gazed around at the cabin. It was more spacious than the others, but was filled by the bed and the rolltop desk tucked into the corner.

And it was the desk that had snared her attention now.

After throwing a furtive look both ways, she slipped into the room, leaving the door cracked so she’d hear if someone was coming. She went to the desk, picked up the shirt he had draped across it. Maybe he’d had intentions of getting fully dressed after all. She wondered if her arrival there that morning had interrupted him. The thought had her stomach fluttering. Forcing her mind away from the vivid mental image that bloomed, she tossed the shirt onto the bed and reached for the top drawer.

Locked.

A quick check proved that the drawers were similarly secured, which only made Analiese more determined. Straightening, she folded her arms, contemplating the lock’s opening and wondered what a few twists of a hair pin would yield. She had some in her toiletry case. But before she retrieved one she grabbed the shirt off the bed again to replace it.

There was no sound to alert her, but suddenly she became aware that she was no longer alone. Sudden foreboding weighting her limbs, her gaze slowly went to the doorway. And saw Jones lounging, one shoulder against the jamb.

She released the shirt as if it were in flames. Ohmygod, she mentally groaned as she looked up to his unsmiling expression. With the vast amount of material her life provided, she thought fate could pass up the occasional opportunity to humiliate her. Since he wasn’t moving, she gave him a weak smile. “Hey, I was just looking for you.”

“I told you I’d be up on deck. Why would you be looking for me in my room?”

She tossed a quick look around. “Oh, is this your room?” Then she almost winced as she heard the disingenuous tone in her words. “I was wondering…if you had anything for motion sickness.”

“Motion sickness.”

“I’m already feeling a little nauseous.”

“Funny. We haven’t pulled anchor yet.”

Great. Where was a tidal wave when she needed a good distraction? “I meant I will be nauseous. Soon. When we take off.”

He settled his weight more comfortably and crossed his arms. “You’re planning on getting sick?”

“No, of course not.” It took a great deal of effort to keep her smile in place. “I just mean that normally I do. So I thought if I took something now, before I really needed it, when I did need it I wouldn’t need it so much.”

With a vague sense of horror she realized the foolish drivel was coming from her. There seemed to be no end to the mortifying depths to which she would sink around him.

He hadn’t moved, was still watching her with the expression one might wear contemplating a strange breed of animal in a zoo. “So if you tend to get seasick, why would you charter a ship?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to deny any such weakness. She was an excellent sailor, had been going out on the gulf since she could walk. But she kicked pride aside to salvage what she could of the situation. “It’s just the first hour or so out, then I’m always fine. And I meant to pick something up before I left home, but completely forgot about it. If you don’t have anything…”

Silence stretched, taut with tension. Then finally he straightened. “I can probably find something.”

Relief filled her. “Great.” She could barely contain her eagerness to get out of his room. He disappeared into the head, and she took the opportunity to scurry across the narrow hall into her own quarters. Jones reappeared a moment later, holding two tablets and a paper cup filled with water. She took both from him, and said, “Thanks. I think I’ll take these now and lie down for a while.”

It seemed to take an interminable amount of time before he quit staring at her and backed out of the doorway. “That would probably be best.”

Swinging the door shut after him, Ana gulped the water down. It didn’t help. Her throat still felt strangled. Dumping the pills in the now-empty cup, she crumpled it in her hand. As far as her espionage skills went, she was scoring in the negative range so far. If she didn’t get better at subterfuge than this, she wasn’t going to be of much use to Sam.

She got the hairpin she’d come for and sat on the edge of her bed, waiting until she felt the ship begin to move. Although her nerves still hadn’t recovered from her last encounter with Jones, she forced herself to cross the corridor again and ease his door open. Losing no time, she dropped to her knees before the desk and began to twist the pin into a decent pick.

Inserting it into the lock on the rolltop, she probed carefully. Although she had no experience at unlocking desk drawers per se, she had grown quite adept at picking the lock on the strong box in which Sam or James had hidden her car keys whenever they’d attempted to ground her. She could have just had extra sets of keys made, but she’d thought the idea had lacked finesse.

Her skills were rusty, so it took several minutes before she heard a tiny click, and she triumphantly removed the pin, easing the top upward. Excitement filled her when she saw the neat piles of papers and notebooks lining the cubbyholes. She’d hit pay dirt. Reaching for the first book, she withdrew it and began flipping through it. Something in here had to yield a clue about the trip Sam had taken with Jones. Whatever it was, she was determined to find it.