Born In Secret

“They have to have a lab somewhere,” Walker concluded flatly. Oddly restless, he rose again to cross to Dirk’s desk. Leaning against it, he surveyed the other two. “And their little venture is taking some big financing.”

Nodding, the older man said, “The Brothers of Darkness would be the only group in the country powerful enough to provide all of those. You’ll have to go through them to locate the virus. Once you do, I want you to confiscate it, then get the hell out of the country.” A flicker of concern crossed his face before it was smoothed away. “The group is known for being particularly brutal with those who cross them. A couple of years ago it was rumored that one their members was thought to be selling information on the group to the Pakistani government. He vanished, only to show up a month or so later on the palace grounds, disemboweled.”

Silence stretched, thick and elastic. Walker appreciated the man’s warning, but it wouldn’t change the outcome of this meeting. He’d been committed the moment Dirk had contacted him. “When do we start?”

“Immediately. As soon as I contact Kamal he’ll send his private jet for you. You’ll have time to go out and pick up anything you think you might need.” His handsome face creased with a surprisingly youthful smile. “And if there are any odds and ends that you’re lacking for the job, I can probably supply them.”

Walker was well aware of the odds and ends Dirk kept in his warehouse of high-tech gadgetry. He wouldn’t mind taking a look. The man had an incredible knack for getting his hands on tools still in the prototype stage. “I can be ready.” He sent a lazy glance Jasmine’s way. “How about you?”

If she’d been affected by Dirk’s warning, it didn’t show in her expression. Her gaze met his in a silent challenge before turning to the older man. “I am sure Kamal is anxious for your call. There is no need to make him wait any longer.”

Slapping his hands on his knees, Dirk rose, and after a moment, she followed suit. “I’ll do it right now. Then the three of us can relax and catch up for a few hours. If you’ll excuse me for a few minutes?”

Walker waited until the man had strode out the door before focusing on Jasmine. She was, if anything, lovelier than the last time he’d seen her. The scarlet suit she wore showcased her endless legs and hugged her generous breasts. She still wore her long thick hair straight and loose to swing around her shoulders. He remembered how it felt draped across his chest; wrapped around his fingers. And because the memory burned, he gave her a mocking smile.

“Red’s a good color on you, Jaz. You should wear it often.”

She lifted an elegant brow. “Compliments, Walker? I do not remember that you were so flattering the last time we spoke.”

“Yeah, I was hard on you.” Hands still in his pockets, he strolled over to her, noted her almost imperceptible reaction when he deliberately invaded her space. At five foot nine she was five inches shorter than him, and he dwarfed her when he stood this close. She was incredibly feminine, with a delicate bone structure. It was an effective disguise for a woman trained to kill a man in half a dozen different ways.

But her real danger would come not from her skills but her ability to get people to trust her. To underestimate her. Then when she turned out to be something far different from what they expected, she had the element of surprise. He could attest that she used the quality to her advantage.

He crooked a finger, ran his knuckle lightly along her delicate jaw. “I shouldn’t have said those things back then. I was angry.”

Her eyes flickered warily, and this time she did take a step backward. He followed, maintaining the contact. Intent. Predatory. His thumb skated lightly across her lips. He felt each word as she formed it.

“You were furious.”

“Yes.” The word was a whisper of a sound uttered only inches from her mouth.

She moistened her lips. “You are still angry.”

Walker cupped her face with both hands and brushed his lips against hers. Once. Twice. Again. “Do I seem angry to you?”

Her fingers locked around his wrists. When his mouth settled against hers, her grip tightened but she didn’t push him away. He pressed her lips open and let her sweet unique flavor race through his system and fire his blood. When he traced the sensitive inner seam of her lips he was reminded of the silkiness of her mouth and dove deeper. He stroked her tongue with his, forcing her to respond to him. And when she did, when her fingers turned caressing on his wrists and her mouth opened avidly under his, he lifted his lips from hers to murmur, “No, I’m not angry. There’s no point. You can’t help what you are.”

He toyed with the ends of her hair as he waited for his words to register. But then her eyes fluttered open, the look in them dazed, drugged, and lust punched him hard in the gut. And when comprehension chased those feelings away, a deeply primal part of him mourned.

“What…” He distracted her from her words by dropping a kiss at the corner of her mouth. “And what am I?”

“An opportunist.” His lips skimmed the curve of her cheek. “A woman who’ll go to any lengths to get what she wants.” He felt her tense and with a twist had his hands free to capture her wrists before she could use her nails on him. “Hell, you’re not the first woman to use sex to get what she wants. Guess I should be grateful you screwed me literally as well as figuratively.”

She was faster than he remembered. He easily dodged her swiftly raised knee, but not the stomp on his instep. Even as he winced he was grasping both her wrists in one hand before she could try to flip him over her back, and yanked her closer to defuse the danger.

They were pressed together, legs, hips, chests; a solid length of heat pulsing between them. Even now he knew better than to underestimate her. “Still carry that stiletto around your thigh?” Without waiting for an answer, Walker slipped a hand under her skirt, skimmed his fingers over her silky leg and found the weapon strapped around it. She tossed her head, glaring at him murderously. Old grudges couldn’t lessen his appreciation of the picture she made with storms brewing in her dark eyes. “You always did have a temper, Jaz.”

“And always you had the head of a pig.”

He interpreted her insult with very little difficulty. “I may be pigheaded, but I’m not stupid.” With no little reluctance he removed his hand from her thigh. “I know how you operate now, and I’m putting you on alert. You’ll do things my way in Maloun. An assignment like this can have only one leader, and it’s going to be me.” Watching the mutinous expression settle over her face, he gave her a slight shake. “I mean it. We can’t be pulling in two different directions. We’re going to have to come to some terms.”

“As usual the terms must be yours. I understand exactly.”

He might have believed her if her voice wasn’t so defiant. As it was, he had the distant observation that her accent still became more pronounced when she was upset. “I’m the one who’s going to be taking most of the risks. I have to be able to call the shots.”

“We will work as a team, as Dirk hired us to do.” Her eyes flashed at him. “You must learn to control your temper and your ego if we are to be successful.”

She pulled away and he let her go. There could be nothing more accomplished now, at any rate. Not with both of them at each other’s throats. But he’d made his point, so he turned and headed for the door.

Before he walked through it, though, sheer deviltry had him turning back again. “Oh, and Jaz?” He waited for her to look at him before smiling mockingly. “You definitely kissed me back.”

Chapter 2

Jasmine hesitated outside the door of Walker’s temporary quarters in Sheik Kamal’s palace. She’d faced the leaders of an international smuggling ring with far more equanimity than she felt right now. She’d known those men were dangerous, that her life had been in jeopardy. She’d been comfortable relying on her own skills to ensure her safety. It was telling that she regularly risked her life without a qualm, but had to summon the courage to approach Walker in his bedroom.

The man was every bit as dangerous as any she’d brought down, but it wasn’t her life she feared for around him, it was something far more fragile. He’d bruised her heart once with his callous dismissal of her. She’d never allow herself to be that vulnerable again.

The silent vow made it a bit easier to raise her hand, to rap on his door. She was disconcerted when he pulled open the door and she was confronted by his partially nude body.

Her gaze skated over his bare chest, then lowered to the jeans that rode low on his lean hips, unbuttoned to reveal his hard flat belly. Averting her gaze, she scrambled to summon a steady voice. “I can come back later.”

“No, come on in. I could use your help.”

Reluctantly she followed him into the room. It was a moment before she noted the fresh angry-looking scar running down the center of his back, only centimeters from his spine. A gasp escaped her before she could prevent it. “What happened?”

He didn’t halt on his way to the adjoining bathroom. “After setting the explosives on the last job, a member of my team caught a bullet as we were pulling out. I dropped back to give him a hand, and we were still a little too close when it detonated.”

His succinct summary was all the more chilling for its casual delivery. “You went back into a building that was set to explode?”

One large shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I’m responsible for my team.”

Yes, she thought, nausea curling through her stomach, he would be responsible. Whatever else she thought of Walker James, she’d never doubted his skill. His dedication to the men who worked with him. Her eyes shifted back to the raised, puckered wound on his back. It wouldn’t be the only physical reminder he carried of the danger he routinely courted. His body was a map of faded scars acquired in the act of carrying out various missions.

He was something of a legend in the shadowy world they shared. The Ghost, he was called, for his ability to slip in and out of seemingly impenetrable places. His skill with security was matched by a cunning that kept his services in high demand. Certainly his reputation had been part of her admiration for him, her pleasure when he’d shown an unmistakable interest that time in Venice.

She’d learned the hard way that he was just as skilled at slipping under personal defenses, as well. Of using his looks and personal magnetism to defuse normal wariness and invite intimacy far too quickly, far too blindly. She may not have completed a formal education, but she never needed to review the same lesson twice. And if she did, she had only to remember their parting in Venice. The memory still throbbed like a wound.

“Will you come here a minute?”

From the slight edge in his tone, she realized he’d had to repeat himself. She poked her head in the bathroom to find him standing in front of the sink, his hair freshly doused.

“Put this ointment on my back, would you? It’s harder than hell for me to reach.”

Jasmine hung back, strangely loathe to comply. “Where are the bandages? We could put the ointment on them and then cover the injury.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was doing, but I’m not going to wear the bandages anymore. Too much trouble.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. It would do no good to argue with him. She’d learned long ago that he had a will of iron. There was probably no real danger even if the wound didn’t remain sterile. Against the stubborn blood that flowed through his veins, an infection wouldn’t stand a chance.

Aware that he was watching her in the mirror, she approached and took the tube he held. With more concentration than the act required, she squeezed out a generous amount and applied it to his wound.

His muscles tensed under her touch. It was an effort to keep her mind firmly in the present and away from the time when her hands had roamed his body freely, with an eagerness that still had the power to embarrass her. She struggled to keep her face impassive as she completed the task, then stepped away. Noting a bowl beside the sink filled with an unfamiliar substance, she asked him about it.

“It’s coloring.” Even as he spoke he scooped up some of the stuff and rubbed it over his wet hair carelessly. “I’m going to lighten my hair for the assignment. It washes out in less than two weeks. That should give us enough time.”

Studying the glop he was working into the strands, she said, “Perhaps I should do the same.”

“It isn’t necessary. You’re expected to pass as a native of Tamir. Your coloring is perfect for this job.”

He was right, of course. It also made it difficult for her to change her appearance for each assignment. She had to rely on discreetly applied makeup to add subtle lines, to alter her jawline. Maloun was a highly conservative society with little evidence of western influence. The traditional dress she would be required to wear lent ample opportunity to alter her body type. She’d have to rely on those techniques to mar an accurate description of her.

“I mean, I could change my hair. Perhaps cut it before we leave.”

“No!”

The vehemence in that single word startled her. Her gaze met his in the mirror. But his voice was nonchalant enough when he explained, “Women have the advantage of being able to just pull their hair up to achieve a different look. Believe me, sweetheart, your hair is going to be the last thing any man concentrates on.”

While she struggled with his meaning, Jasmine watched Walker cover the hair on his arms with the same mixture, then apply it to his chest. The matching color would make his alteration all the more convincing. She noted the face he made as he rubbed the stuff on his torso. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just shave the hair off?”

One side of his mouth lifted. “Easier? Yeah. But the only time I tried that I almost went nuts while it was growing back. It itched like crazy. I’ve decided this is more work, but much more comfortable later.”

He bent over the tub that was easily large enough to host a small dinner party, and turned on the gold-plated taps. With his head shoved under the faucet he said, “Get me a couple towels and washcloths, will you?” She did so, then returned to the bedroom. There was something much too cozy about watching the man engage in his preparations. Their assignment was complicated enough by their previous brief relationship. There would be no place for emotion in this job.

She distracted herself by studying the quarters he’d been given. It was opulent, like the rest of the palace, with a huge lake of a bed covered with rumpled satin sheets. Pillows lay strewn around it. Walker liked to sleep sprawled out, she recalled. At least he had in the little time they’d spent sleeping their one night together. Although she’d awakened to find herself close to the edge of the bed, she’d been in no danger of falling from it. He’d been holding her much too closely for that.

To shake the memories from her mind, she crossed to the large desk. Its top was strewn with papers and maps. When he rejoined her minutes later she was absorbed in them.

Without turning around she folded a map over to reveal the one beneath. “How will we travel to Maloun?” While she’d spent every hour they’d been in Tamir trying to learn as much of that country’s history as possible, Walker had been taking care of the physical details of the assignment.

“The sheik’s jet will fly us to Redyshah, the capital city. That’s where the prime minister’s quarters are located.” He stepped to her side, indicated a spot on the map. “The airport is in the northernmost part of the city. One of our operatives will have a car waiting for us, outfitted with some supplies I ordered.”

She nodded. “You will have ample opportunity to demonstrate your skills as my driver. I hope you are up to the challenge. As your passenger, I will have very exacting standards.”

Her attempt to needle him failed. He merely crowded closer to her, reached to flip a map over. “I’ll be at your service, Jaz. In whatever areas you require.”

He was tantalizing her intentionally. The knowledge was the only thing that kept her from moving away. She was unwilling to display even that slight hint of weakness. Studying the maps, she gave every indication of ignoring him. Maloun was Tamir’s closest neighbor, located on the nearby Arabian Peninsula. The northern and central parts of the country, she noted, appeared mostly desert, with the country growing hillier where it was edged by water. She wondered in what part of the country the Brothers were housed.

In a movement she hoped seemed casual, she turned, faced him. “When do we leave?”

“A few hours.” He’d lightened his brows, too, she observed. He would probably also wear contacts to change the color of his eyes. She wondered if it ever seemed odd to him that while other men put on a suit and tie to go to work, he had to become someone else entirely.

But that thought was quickly followed by another. She couldn’t see Walker James wearing pinstripes and keeping banker’s hours. There was something much too elemental, too primitive about him for that. He would be attracted to danger, to excitement. If he hadn’t turned to espionage, he’d be engaged in something else just as risky.

“Let’s go over our covers again.”

She stifled a sigh. They’d been over their stories so often she could repeat hers backward. “My name is Rose Mahrain. My father was the Tamir ambassador to America and we divided our time between Washington, D.C., and Tamir. My husband was also in government, until his death two years ago. When Sheik Kamal offered me a diplomatic post, I eagerly accepted. This will be my first assignment out of the country, and I am naturally anxious to do well.” As was usually the case, the cover could be substantiated, at least on the surface. If an inquiry was conducted, it would be discovered that the details corresponded exactly with a woman by that name, who had been sent out of the country for the course of this assignment. Except the real Rose Mahrain had been offered no such post.

As Englishman John Logan, Walker, too would have a cover that would withstand scrutiny. She found herself anticipating the character he would adopt, complete with accent.

“How did your husband die?”

The continued questioning annoyed her. She was not a schoolchild reciting a memorized lesson for a critical teacher, although she’d certainly repeated this one for Walker often enough. A hint of mischief seized her. “He died in bed.” Her improvisation earned her a narrowed look. “I am a woman of great…needs. I pleasured him to death.”

There was a long pregnant pause. “Stick to the script,” Walker advised finally. “This job is going to be complicated enough without you being deliberately provocative. You may get a response you hadn’t counted on.”

“I have no intention of provoking a response from our targets!”

“I was talking about me.”

Her throat abruptly went dry. There was an all too familiar heat in his eyes that she hadn’t meant to ignite. This tension between them was causing her to act out of character. In every job she prided herself on her ability to remain cool. But something about Walker brought out an unfamiliar impulsivity. The last time she’d given in to those impulses, she’d gotten badly burned in the process. She’d do well to remember that the next time she was tempted to drag a response from him.

To distract them both, she rounded the desk to cross to the window. “What have you learned about the prime minister?”

“His name is Hosni El-Dabir. He’s a career politician, so he’ll be well acquainted with Sheik Ahmed Kamal and his family, even though the two countries don’t have much to do with each other. If he brings up a subject you aren’t completely familiar with, you’d be better off to admit ignorance. He’ll know if you bluff.”

“Thank you so much for the advice,” she said with mock politeness. “I do not know how I manage without your wisdom on other assignments.”

Still wearing a slight frown, he looked at her. “Don’t get bitchy, Jaz. I’m not belittling your ability, just giving you some facts. This thing isn’t going to work if we’re at each other’s throats all the time.”

Since she had thought much the same, she was ready to agree with him. Perhaps even to suggest some sort of truce. But the suggestion he made next drove all other thoughts from her mind. She gaped at him, doubting she’d heard correctly. “What did you say?”

“I said maybe we should just spend an hour or two in bed and get it out of our systems.” When she couldn’t seem to manage an answer, he went on. “Sexual tension can be a distraction, one we don’t need. A couple of hours burning up the sheets would go a long way toward relieving that.”

She couldn’t remember ever being propositioned quite so passionlessly. The offhand crudity left her speechless. But in the middle of summoning a blistering retort, she caught the flicker of anticipation in his eyes. He wanted a reaction from her, she realized. Any reaction.

So instead of giving him the response he was looking for, she merely arched a brow. He’d never know what her cool, mildly amused tone cost her. “I am afraid I must turn down your charming proposition. One night with you was more than enough.” She turned and made her way to the door. “I will be ready to leave in two hours. We can meet at the front doors.” Her hand was on the knob when she paused and looked at him over her shoulder. “Oh, and Walker? You could never be a distraction to me. My taste for loutish Americans was completely erased three years ago.”

She pulled open the door, sailed through it with queenly grace. The only thing that marred her departure was knowing that he watched her exit with a satisfied smile still on his lips.

“Madame Mahrain.” The Maloun prime minister lingered over her hand, addressing her in Arabic. “It is an honor and a great pleasure to have you visit our nation.”

“The pleasure is mine, sir. What I have seen of your country so far is very impressive.” Jasmine answered in the same language, that of her birth. Walker hung back circumspectly. “May I present my assistant, John Logan? I’m afraid he only speaks English.”

In heavily accented English, El-Dabir turned to Walker and said, “Welcome to our country. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you, sir.” Walker’s tone was respectful, with a clipped British accent. He remained at Jasmine’s elbow, a couple steps behind her, in a position of silent deference. She wondered if it was the first time in his life that he’d acted deferential to anyone, even if it was feigned.

She would never have believed the difference he could manage in his appearance. She’d been prepared for the lighter hair, the contacts that changed his piercing blue eyes to a nondescript hazel. Like her, he’d placed slim cotton pads inside his cheeks to alter the shape of his face. But the alteration went beyond the obvious. The black loose-fitting shirt and trousers he’d chosen were a size too big. He stood with his shoulders slightly rolled, his chin tucked. Little details taken by themselves, but together they gave him the look of a man inches shorter, many pounds lighter. His manner suggested a lowly government employee whose demeanor was light-years away from that of the confidently arrogant Walker James.

El-Dabir led them down a graciously wide hallway into a large airy room. It was furnished with a lovely piano in one corner, with chairs and couches scattered throughout the rest of the space. As Jasmine and Walker seated themselves on one of the overstuffed couches, the prime minister summoned a servant and issued an order for tea. Then he returned to his guests and sat on a chair facing them.

“I trust your trip was pleasant.”

“Sheik Kamal’s jet is quite comfortable. Far more luxurious than I am used to.” As she spoke, Jasmine studied her host surreptitiously. Hosni El-Dabir did not look like a career politician, she mused. As most Maloun males, the prime minister wore a traditional jellaba. He’d donned a jacket over the hooded loose-fitting robe, and a kaffiyeh covered his head. His nose was flat, as though it had been misshapen in a brawl. He had the square body of a boxer, and his dark gaze had a way of sliding over her face rather than focusing on it. In contrast, his hands were well-manicured, the skin surprisingly smooth when he’d touched hers. If Maloun had an American equivalent of the syndicate, she could have easily pictured him at its helm.