Undercover Colorado

“It’d serve you right to fall flat on your nose,” Julia said. “You ought to know better than to drink tequila.”

Vanessa came to a halt. She kicked off the high heels. Bare-footed, she plodded into the kitchen.

Though she was teetering at the edge of misery, Mac could tell that she was still in control, which seemed to be her most pronounced character trait. Control. Even though she’d gotten pretty well oiled at the Sundown Tavern, she wasn’t drunk enough to give him any useful information.

Mac had investigated on his own. Last night, after talking to Sheila, he’d contacted a cop buddy in L.A. and asked about a state’s witness named Vanessa.

Her full name was Vanessa Lenore Nye. She was a former Vegas showgirl who had lived with the elderly head of the Santoro crime family before turning state’s evidence. Mac’s first impression of her was one hundred percent correct. She was a woman who’d do anything for the right price. Her extravagance was renowned. Reputedly, she owned half a dozen mink coats and over a hundred pairs of shoes. At one time, she’d been in possession of the famed thirty-four carat LeSalle diamond. Anything for the right price.

So why was she interested in him? It was out of character for a gold digger to flirt with a Denver homicide cop who drove a late-model car and didn’t wear a Rolex.

In the kitchen, Julia dumped tomato juice, raw eggs and a nasty-looking green weed into the blender. When she set the dial to puree and turned on the blender, Vanessa winced at the grinding whir.

“Sounds like a 747,” she muttered.

“After this remedy,” Julia said, “you’ll be better in no time.”

“Want coffee,” Vanessa said pathetically.

“Drink this first.” She held out a glass filled to the brim with a putrid green liquid. “Every drop.”

Like a swimmer preparing for the hundred meter breaststroke, Vanessa inhaled and exhaled deeply. She took the glass and chugged until it was empty. “Yech.”

“Go to the dining room,” Julia said. “I’ll bring you coffee and dry toast.”

At the table, Mac held her chair and took his place at the end of the table beside her. Right now, she appeared to be vulnerable; this might be a good time to start with his probing. “You lived in Los Angeles,” he said. “What part of the city?”

“Newport.”

That fit with the information he’d been given. “Right near the ocean. Did you have a private beach?”

She held up her hand. “No more talking.”

“Ever go surfing?”

Slowly, she turned her head and glared with such cold hostility that she might have been measuring him for a coffin. “No. More. Talk.”

He waited until she’d finished her coffee, a glass of water and a piece of toast. Her eyes were more alert.

“Surfing,” she said, “is not my thing. Even in a wetsuit, the water is too cold. I like indoor sports.”

“So, I assume you’re not a skier.”

“Love the ski clothes. There just aren’t enough times when I can wear my minks.”

Julia popped her head around the corner. “Feeling better, Vanessa?”

“A lot better. What did you put in that drink?”

“It’s a secret formula. And it always works,” Julia said. “The next thing you should do is go for a walk outdoors in the fresh air.”

“Good idea,” Mac said. “I’ll come with you.”

THOUGH ABBY would rather have stayed in bed all day, nursing her hangover and cursing the wormy evils of tequila, she didn’t have that luxury. Last night, she had recognized Mac’s restlessness. He didn’t want to be here. And there was no way to force him to stay at the safe house. He had come here at the suggestion of his lieutenant. If he decided to leave, he could do so.

To fulfill her assignment, she needed to convince him to trust her, offer him a bribe and inform her superiors of his response. A hike along a secluded mountain path seemed like a good way to get close to him.

She abandoned her high heels for a pair of bright pink sneakers that matched her low-cut sweater. Together, she and Mac set out on a path that led past the barn toward a sloping hillside. The morning sun beat down with aching clarity. Behind her huge, extra-dark sunglasses, Abby winced. “Is it always so glaring?”

“Take a deep gulp of that fresh air,” he said cheerfully. The man was positively enjoying her misery. What a rat! If she hadn’t been undercover, Abby would have flattened him with a karate kick to the jaw.

He leaned against the corral beside the barn where three horses pranced and flicked their long tails. “Maybe,” he said, “we should go for a ride.”

Bouncing up and down in the saddle with her brain crashing inside her skull? “Forget it.”

“Look around you. Take a minute to appreciate the scenery.”

“If it’s so great, how come you live in the city?”

He shrugged. “I just ended up there.”

She didn’t believe that for one minute. Mac was the kind of man who took action. Things didn’t “just happen” to him. “What made you leave?”

“The usual reasons,” he said cryptically. “How about you? Did you grow up in Los Angeles or move there?”

Abby couldn’t remember if she’d mentioned L.A. last night when she was drinking. After she’d bumped into Leo outside the ladies’ room, things had gotten real blurry. She’d felt like she was in a waking dream, standing outside her body and watching herself as she slurped down tequila and laughed too loud. Only her years of undercover experience had kept her from completely blowing her identity as Vanessa Nye.

Now, she knew, Mac was trying to pierce that cover. He must have gotten some inside information about Vanessa Nye and was testing her. Well, fine! Even with the remnants of a hangover, she could handle this.

“I grew up in a little town in Oregon. I didn’t hate it, but I was bored. So totally bored. Vegas was more to my liking.”

“I like Oregon,” Mac said. “What was the name of the town?”

“Sterling.” She remembered more details from her dossier on Vanessa. “Our high school team was the Sterling Pirates. Our colors were red and gold. I was a cheerleader.”

“And in Las Vegas?”

“Different kind of cheers.” She started walking along the path. Vanessa’s early life wasn’t all that different from her own. Abby had also come from a small town and had been a cheerleader.

“Tell me how you ended up in California.”

Abby lowered her sunglasses and peered over the rim at him. “I’m not in the mood for a cat-and-mouse game, Mac. If there’s something you want to know from me, just ask.”

“You’re Vanessa Nye,” he said.

“Bingo.”

“You lived with the head of the Santoro family.”

“Right again.”

“Why?”

She allowed her sunglasses to fall back onto the bridge of her nose. How would the real Vanessa handle this inquiry? “None of your business.”

Turning away, she tromped along the path beside a narrow creek. The dried grasses at the side of the rippling water crackled as she walked through them. Under her sweater and leather pants, Abby perspired although the temperature was pleasantly cool. She welcomed the cold sweat, evidence that the alcohol was working through her system.

As she followed the creek into the shadow of the trees, she paused. Her goal was to get Mac to trust her, which meant she needed to be more amenable. She forced herself to smile at him. “I don’t want to think about the past, okay? I just want to have fun. Just to, you know, be friends with you.”

“Maybe I want to be more than a friend.”

She hadn’t expected that response. All the indications Mac had given until now were that he didn’t even know she was female. What was he up to? She studied his expression.

Like all good liars, Abby was easily able to recognize deception in others. It seemed to her that Mac was telling the truth about wanting to hook up with her. His teeth bared in a predatory grin. His gaze latched on to her face, and he leaned close. These were all indications of physical attraction.

Surely not. Surely, she was reading the signs wrong. “What are you saying?”

“I like you.”

“Even though you know who I am?” His readiness to get friendly with Vanessa was clearly inappropriate. “But you’re a cop.”

“So what?”

A good cop would have better boundaries. “Don’t you disapprove of my connection with Santoro?”

“That was the past,” he said. “I thought you just wanted to have fun.”

“Well, sure. But—”

“You could have fun with me.” His right arm encircled her waist and he pulled her tight against his hard, lean body. “What do you say, Vanessa?”

Expertly, she slipped away from his one-armed embrace. Too much was happening too fast. Though her brain was still sluggish from the hangover, her instincts warned her about getting close to this man. He was her target.

And she was Vanessa Nye. A gold digger. That would be her excuse to back off. “Well, Mac. If you really know so much about me, you’ll know that I’m very selective. My companionship doesn’t come cheap.”

“You like pretty things,” he said.

“Expensive things.”

“Today is your lucky day,” he said coolly. “I can afford you, Vanessa. I’m rich.”

From bribes? From ill-gotten gains? “No way. Cops don’t make big bucks.”

“Inheritance,” he said. “I received a ton of money when my grandmother sold off family-owned lands where Vail ski resort was developed in the 1960s. The Grangers are very, very wealthy.”

His gaze flicked down and to the left. His right hand touched the side of his nose and rubbed across his lips. Both were obvious signals that Mac was telling a lie. Abby knew it. But Vanessa wouldn’t. Vanessa would take Mac at his word.

“Really?” she asked. “You’re a land baron?”

“A former land baron. That’s right.”

He looked down at his toes and shuffled. Clearly uncomfortable. Mac was the worst liar she had ever encountered. He wouldn’t last a minute in undercover work.

But this lie—no matter how poorly executed—was very clever as a test. If she really was Vanessa Nye, she’d be all over this good-looking cop who was also rich. Vanessa used seduction to get what she wanted. And, for the moment, Abby was Vanessa.

She purred, “I think you’re right, Mac. You and me? We could have some fun together. Later today, you could take me shopping at the boutiques in Vail.”

“I don’t want to wait until later.”

Again, he dragged her into an embrace.

As Vanessa, she wouldn’t resist. Abby set aside her own feelings of distaste and played her undercover role as the sexy vamp. Her lips met his. In the back of her mind, she was detached, repeating a mantra. This is only a job, only a job, only…

His mouth was fierce and demanding. His arms held her in a viselike grip. Her breasts crushed against his chest.

But when he leaned away from her, she saw a look of surprise in his honest blue eyes. He removed her sunglasses, taking down a barrier between them. She liked what she saw. A strong man.

Though the planes of his face had been hardened by experience, she saw empathy in his eyes—the true kindness that came from understanding. A good man.

Dappled sunlight filtered through the overhanging branches of conifers. The whisper of the creek trickled at the edge of her senses. His arms felt warm and sheltering. It felt right to be with him.

When he kissed her again, her body responded to him. Her well-developed defense system came crashing down as she allowed herself to enjoy the breathtaking sensation of their kiss. Her heart fluttered, and a thrill chased through her entire body.

Oh, God, no. This was all wrong! Mac Granger could be a dirty cop, the worst kind of traitor. She couldn’t be attracted to him.

Gasping, she broke away. “That’s enough.”

They stood, staring at each other.

She saw something in him that touched her soul. He’d been hurt, badly hurt. But he was tough; he could take the pain and come back stronger. Without words, she saw all these things.

She wanted to know him better. To hear his truth.

And she wanted to share her feelings with him, to tell him how tired she was of constantly pretending to be someone else. On the tip of her tongue was her name. Abigail Marie Nelson. She longed to tell him. To be completely, utterly honest.

For the first time in her career as an FBI special agent, Abby had completely forgotten her cover story.

Chapter Four

Mac’s plan to unmask the woman who called herself Vanessa Nye went up in smoke when she kissed him back. Until then, he’d been trying to interrogate her, trying to trip her up. When he had demanded a kiss, he figured she’d back off and admit that she was conning him.

He hadn’t expected a lightning bolt.

He needed distance from her. And time to sort out his feelings. He spent the rest of the morning avoiding Vanessa and took off early for the meeting he’d scheduled with his partner.

Mac parked outside the graveyard near Redding. A secluded spot at the end of a graded gravel road, this was the first place that had occurred to him when he arranged this meet with Sheila. Mac wanted privacy, and nobody came here by accident. Not that the old cemetery was ominous. The opposite was true. This gently rising hillside surrounded by Ponderosa and lodgepole pine provided a peaceful resting place. The graves—some of them dating back over a hundred years—were fenced off, but the land wasn’t manicured. Weeds and wild-flowers grew rampant between the simple markers.

As soon as he stepped out of his car, Sheila pulled up beside him in her own vehicle. Good timing. In spite of her many other faults, his partner was punctual.

“Did you take the day off?” he asked as she came toward him.

“That’s right.” As always, she sounded irritated. “Until you get back, I’m stuck with boring desk work, which I totally hate. If I wanted to spend the entire day hanging around the station, I would have become a lawyer.”

He didn’t point out that a law degree was probably far beyond her limited ability to concentrate. “Did you get the information I asked for?”

“This time,” she said, “you really messed up.”

He messed up? He bit down hard to keep from spitting out accusations. The only mistake he’d made at the warehouse shooting was allowing her to get out of the car. “Tell me what you’ve heard.”

“You don’t have any idea how much trouble you’re in.” Her scowl etched deep lines below her thick brown bangs. “How much do you know about that guy you shot and killed?”

Mac had made it his business to find out about the man whose life he had taken. “His name was Dante Williams, and he was twenty-seven years old. High school dropout. Seven arrests, mostly on drug-related charges. One conviction landed him in prison for eight months.”

“A regular poster boy for how to ruin your life.”

“He still didn’t deserve to die.” Though Mac had fired in the line of duty, he would always regret the shooting, and he would visit the grave of Dante Williams to pay his respects. It was a ritual Mac followed with the other victim he’d shot and killed early in his police career.

“Anyway,” Sheila said, “this guy, Dante, was about to give evidence on the number one drug distributor in Colorado. The top man. The honcho. When you killed him, you blew it.”

“Were the feds and Denver vice working together on the sting?”

“Not on purpose,” she said. “They were both following trails that led to the same place.”

“To Dante,” he said.

“It gets worse.” She glanced at her wristwatch—one of her less annoying nervous habits. “Some people think you killed Dante on purpose. To keep him from turning snitch.”

The implication was clear. The FBI and the Denver P.D. suspected that Mac was a dirty cop, that he’d killed Dante Williams on orders from some honcho drug kingpin.

A burst of anger flared behind his eyelids. The shooting at the warehouse had been a grotesque miracle of bad timing, but he shouldn’t be a suspect. His dedication to his work and his years of service ought to count for something. He’d earned medals and citations. He was a good cop.

“Now you know,” Sheila said with a smirk. Her attitude was smug and superior. She almost seemed to be enjoying his fall from grace. “The best thing for you to do is lay low and let the dust settle. Please, Mac. Will you do that?”

“Why do you care?” His relationship with Sheila had never been good. They bickered like an old married couple at the verge of divorce.

“You’re my partner.” Insincerity dripped from her voice. “You’ve got to forget about this. Don’t rock the boat. Don’t start investigating on your own.”

As if he’d take advice from her? If she’d behaved in a competent manner at the warehouse sting, he wouldn’t be in this position. Unfortunately, she was his only source of information since everybody else suspected him. He needed to maintain this contact with Sheila. “Did you get that photograph I asked for?”

“Of course.” She opened her car door and leaned inside to retrieve a manila envelope. “This is a recent photo of the FBI undercover agent you shot. Leo Fisher. He’s out of the hospital.”

Mac pulled the photo out of the envelope and studied it. Leo Fisher was an average-looking guy with dark eyes and a square jaw. His long hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Mac thought he’d spotted Leo Fisher last night at the tavern, but he wasn’t one hundred percent sure.

Once again, he tapped into Sheila’s vast collection of gossip. “What have you heard about Leo Fisher?”

“He’s off the case, but…” Her voice trailed off.

“Come on, Sheila. What have you heard?”

“I heard that Fisher was up here in the mountains. Going to Vail, I think.”

“Why?” he asked. Vanessa had also hinted about a trip to Vail.

“I don’t know. God, Mac. I can’t tell you everything.”

Her tone was as whiny as a teenager. He really disliked this woman. Incompetent. Immature.

“I’m thirsty,” she said. “Come with me to get a latte.”

“Can’t,” Mac said. He didn’t want to spend any more time with her than absolutely necessary.

“Where are you staying up here, anyway?”

“I grew up here. In Redding.” No way would he tell Sheila about the safe house. “I have friends up here.”

“Like that cute guy.” She was suddenly alert. “I remember him. He stopped by the station to visit you a couple of times, right? He’s on the Vail ski patrol. I’d love to see him again.”

“Not today.”

“At least come with me for coffee. I drove all the way up here. What are you doing that’s so important?”

He pushed open the wrought iron gate leading into the cemetery. “Visiting my mother’s grave.”

Not even Sheila could be argue with the finality of that statement. She backed toward her car. “Bye, Mac. I’ll stay in touch.”

“You do that,” he muttered.

The information she’d given him hadn’t been completely unexpected. He’d felt the suspicions. Now, he knew why.

In the cemetery, he picked his way along a hard earth path lined with stones to a section where all the Grangers were buried. His grandparents. His great-uncle. And his mother, Kathryn Granger.

Leaning down, he plucked a few weeds that obscured the pink marble marker inscribed with her name. He read the words: Beloved Wife and Mother.

It was true. He had loved her. His name— MacCloud—had been her maiden name, and she’d done as well as she could raising him.

But he couldn’t respect Kathryn Granger. Not after he saw his mother in the arms of a man who wasn’t his father. She’d had an affair. She’d betrayed him and his father, the sheriff. Even after her death, he found it hard to forgive her lies.

Mac doubted he would ever find a woman he could trust.

LEO FISHER limped along the cracked sidewalk on a dark Denver street, not far from the warehouse where he’d been shot in the leg. This was a cruddy part of town, deserted after dark except for the bums and the rats that scattered in fear at his approach.

Leo was alone. Always alone. But he wasn’t bitter. He had a job to do, an important job. And he was the only one who could do it right. By himself. Alone.

Seeing Abby had been weird. He’d barely thought about her since the night she walked out on him. Maybe he’d been hard on her, but she should have understood that he was still in character, still playing the undercover role. The hell with her! He didn’t want or need a wife and family.

He was the best damned undercover agent in the FBI. The best. And there was no way in hell he’d give up on this operation. Not now when he was so close. Why should he let some snot-nosed vice cop like Vince Elliot step in and grab all the glory? This was Leo’s bust.

He stopped on the corner under a streetlamp and lit up a smoke.

A dark form materialized beside him. A snitch.

“Sorry about Dante,” Leo said.

The snitch made the sign of the cross. “He was a good man.”

“What have you got for me?”

“A name.”

Leo scoffed. “I know the name. Nicholas Dirk.”

He was the head honcho in drug distribution throughout the Rocky Mountain west. A wealthy guy who dabbled in all kinds of crime under the cover of being a land developer. He had houses in Denver and in Vail.

“I got evidence,” the snitch said.

“Give.”

“It’s on a computer. Dirk always takes the laptop computer with him. Download that and you’ve got him.”

Leo wasn’t impressed by this overly obvious information. “Big deal. There’s no way for me to get my hands on that evidence.”

“For the right price, I can tell you the password.”

“Now you’re talking.” Leo tossed down his cigarette and crushed it with the tip of his cane. That password was worth paying for.

ON THE SECOND FLOOR in the safe house were six bedrooms of varying sizes. Abby’s was small and squarish, plain but clean, without a telephone, computer hookup or television. Her bedroom opened into a bathroom that she shared with Mac.

For the past ten minutes, she had been standing with her ear to the bathroom door, listening to the thrum of the shower and debating with herself about opening the door a crack to spy on him.

Obviously, she’d be invading his privacy big-time. But her job as an undercover agent was to get close to him, and he couldn’t ignore her if she walked into the bathroom while he was half-naked. Kind of a risky maneuver. But she had to make him talk to her. She had questions. A lot of questions.

This afternoon, she and Julia had followed him to the cemetery. Abby’s surveillance technique was simple. Earlier today, she’d planted a tracking device in the heel of Mac’s boot. All she’d needed to do was activate the device. Julia drove and, together, they’d used GPS technology to locate the signal.

From a hillside near the graveyard, they’d watched while Mac met with his partner, Sheila Hartman. Though Abby hadn’t been close enough to hear what they were saying, the very fact that he’d arranged a clandestine meet was suspicious. Were they both dirty cops? What kind of plans were they making?

Using binoculars, Abby had seen them exchange a photograph of Leo. Again, suspicious.

Leo had said that he was tracking a drug kingpin who had a home in Vail. Would Mac make contact with this person? Would he demand a payoff for the murder of Dante Williams? Was he on the take?

Abby really hoped not. After that overwhelming kiss this afternoon, she wanted nothing more than to discover that Mac was squeaky clean and above suspicion.

After the noise from his shower ended, she waited a few minutes so he’d have time to put on some clothes. Then she opened the bathroom door a crack and peeked inside.

Her intention was to march right in. Brazen and bold. But the sight of him stopped her.

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