Heart of Gold

NINE

“WE TRACED THE call to a phone booth in Mendocino,” Shane reported, drumming his fingertips on the computer printout that lay on the table before him.

“And?” John Banks prompted, his typically sardonic tone not made any more pleasant by the fact that he’d dragged himself out of bed and onto a plane at the crack of dawn. His thick head of steel gray hair was so unruly, he looked as though he had come through a wind tunnel. He needed a shave. His disposition was as rumpled as the dark suit that covered his sturdy frame.

“No distinguishable prints. Fiber evidence isn’t worth a damn at this point-a hundred people go in and out of that phone booth every day.”

“Wonderful.” Banks pulled off his glasses to rub at the bridge of his big nose. Replacing them, he stabbed Shane with a pointed look.

“He’s playing games with us,” Shane said. “Each of the letters he’s sent has a different postmark. Each of the calls we’ve managed to trace has been from a different town-all within a fifty-mile radius. We’ve got them on tape, but his voice is either too muffled or mechanically altered to make them of any use.”

“Suggestions?”

“I want Faith and Lindy moved to a safe house,” Shane said in a tone of voice that did not invite an opposing opinion. He took a strong pull on his cigarette and leveled his gaze at Faith, daring her to defy his plan.

They had been over this already. At three o’clock in the morning. Shane had awakened to find Faith pacing back and forth beside her bed, anxious and angry over the situation her ex-husband had embroiled her in and the feelings of helplessness that had all but overwhelmed her.

Now they sat at one of the larger tables in the inn’s dining room with afternoon light streaming in through the tall windows. The setting was different, but it was quite clear by the angle of Faith’s chin that the argument was going to be the same. Under all her sweetness, behind those gorgeous brown eyes the lady had a true Irish temper.

The door to the kitchen swung open, and Alaina and Jayne walked in, Alaina looking very official with her dark hair pulled back and black-rimmed glasses framing her arctic blue eyes. Jayne’s expression was one of wide-eyed intensity, as if she had just been thrust into a scene in a movie. Shane bristled at the intrusion, but Faith cut him off before he could voice his objection.

“I asked Alaina and Jayne to sit in on this meeting,” she said. Shane shot a burning look her way. Her slim shoulders stiffened, and she stuck her chin out a little farther. “Alaina is my attorney, and Jayne is… well… Jayne is my friend.”

“And spiritual confidant,” Jayne added, sliding down on a chair.

Shane rolled his eyes. Banks frowned, but it was hard to discern whether he was frowning at the addition to the powwow or at Jayne’s outfit-a wildly flowered dirndl skirt that hung to her dainty ankles and an oversize Notre Dame T-shirt, the end of which was tied in a knot at her waist.

“As I was saying,” Shane began in a tight voice, when the door swung open again and Mr. Fitz marched in.

“Here I am, as ye asked, lassie,” he said, nodding purposefully to Faith as he tugged on the bottom of his smelly brown coat.

The glower Shane turned on her was almost enough to make Faith swallow her bravado. “Are you the least familiar with the concept of the need-to-know basis?” he questioned in a dark, silky voice.

“Um… Mr. Fitz lives here,” she said, not wanting to admit she had wanted all these people present for moral support more than anything. “He needs to know.”

Shane’s hands clenched the edge of the table like vise clamps as he struggled with his temper. “Why don’t we just call the Anastasia Gazette and tell them everything that’s going on here?”

Faith sniffed. “You don’t have to get snippy.”

“I’m drawing the line here, Faith,” Shane said through his teeth. He turned to the bearded, bedraggled caretaker. “You can go, Mr. Fitz. You don’t need to know.”

The old man’s beetle brows waggled furiously as he gave Shane a hard stare, then turned and left, grumbling under his breath.

“Can we get on with this, please?” Banks asked pointedly.

“Yes.” Shane turned toward Faith once again and gave her a direct order. “Pack what you need. We’re moving you out of here.”

“No.” She watched Shane blow smoke out of his nose and wondered how much of it could be attributed to his mood rather than his cigarette. He didn’t like her plan, but her mind was made up. She was all through playing this hellish waiting game. The scare she’d had over Lindy’s disappearance the day before had pushed her to take the offensive. Her chin came up a notch, and she turned toward Banks, meeting his bloodshot green eyes with a fierce look.

“I want the man caught. I want him punished.”

Banks opened his mouth to comment, but Shane ignored his boss. All his attention was focused on the woman he had just discovered that he loved. “I want you safe, Faith.”

“That’s what I want too,” Faith insisted, her eyes begging him to understand. “I can’t go on like this, living in a state of terror, waiting and waiting. I can’t go on letting William Gerrard victimize me.”

Shane’s stubborn expression didn’t alter a fraction. “Then we’ll put you in a safe house until the trial is over.”

“And then what? What do I do if you never catch this madman? Am I supposed to go on forever waiting for William’s accomplice to take revenge?”

She wasn’t going to like his next suggestion, Shane knew, but it was the only foolproof solution. It was the solution the frightened man inside him wanted put into motion immediately-anything to keep Faith safe. The idea of anyone hurting her or Lindy scared the hell out of him. “Then we put you in the witness protection program.”

“Absolutely not. This inn is my home, Shane, my dream. I came here with my friends to start a new life. I will not let William steal that from me. When I left him, I vowed I would never let him manipulate me again. That’s exactly what I’d be doing if I went into hiding. I want this ended now.” She turned back toward Banks. “I want to set a trap.”

Again when Banks opened his mouth to offer an opinion, Shane jumped in ahead of him. His low, rough voice had the razor edge of steel in it, which matched the glint in his gray eyes perfectly. He brought Faith’s attention back to himself by snatching hold of her wrist, as if he thought he could change her mind with the strength of his grip. “No way in hell am I letting you set yourself up as bait.”

Faith glared up at him, her dark eyes blazing. “Isn’t that what I’ve been all along?”

Shane ground his teeth. He couldn’t deny it. From the beginning the plan had been to construct a loose net around Faith in order to capture the missing piece from the DataScam puzzle. The difference-the very big difference-was that Shane hadn’t been in love with Mrs. William Gerrard, the woman he had been sent here to watch over. He was very much in love with Faith Kincaid, the woman who had quietly stolen her way into his heart over the past few weeks.

It went against everything in him to allow her to put herself in danger. In fact, the idea terrified him. It was the kind of fear that reached deep inside, past all his barriers to the lonely man who had distanced himself from others all these years. He hated the feeling, hated the way it interfered with his logic.

“What you’re talking about is entirely different.” He fairly growled the words as he ground out his cigarette on the delicate china saucer before him.

Faith met his fierce gaze without flinching. A corner of her mind was aware that Shane’s attitude was stemming from something other than professional judgment, but she couldn’t wonder about that right now. This was not the time for romantic fantasies. It was time for her to take control of her fate. “What I’m talking about is putting an end to this so I can get on with my life.”

“If we follow your damn fool plan, you may not have a life to get on with!” Trying to dominate her with his size, he leaned over her until they were practically nose to nose. Faith didn’t so much as blink.

“I’m with Shane,” Alaina announced. Faith’s expression clearly branded her a traitor, but that didn’t sway Alaina’s judgment. “You’re under no obligation to help catch this person, Faith. The burden of his arrest is on the government, as is your right to protection. As your legal counsel and your friend, I advise against your scheme.”

“Well, I’m with Faith,” Jayne said, always ready to stick up for the underdog. “A person can live in suspense for only so long-about the length of a Hitchcock movie. This has already gone on too long. And if Faith strongly feels it’s her destiny to help capture this man… well, then maybe it’s just her karma,” she said with a decisive nod. She gave Faith her most supportive look. “As long as there’s a hundred cops around and no chance of you getting hurt, I think it’s a good idea.”

Alaina slanted her a look. “This from someone who thought mood rings were a good idea.”

“They were,” Jayne grumbled, crossing her arms over her meager bosom. “Just because yours was always black-”

“May I interject a thought here?” Banks questioned dryly, raising his big square hands in supplication. “After all, I did just fly the width of the continent to be in on this discussion.”

Shane shot his boss a glare of pure annoyance. “What?”

“I think Ms. Kincaid has a point.”

Shane’s answer to that was a rude snort. He slumped back in his chair like a sulky teenager and scowled at Faith. “I think Ms. Kincaid has a screw loose.”

Faith’s temper boiled over abruptly. She was operating on too much anxiety and too little sleep. Her chair scraped back against the polished wood floor as she pushed herself to her feet.

“Just what is your problem?” she demanded, bracing her small hands on the tabletop and leaning over Shane for a change. “You came here perfectly willing to use me as cheese to trap this rat. Now that I’m willing to play an active part in your plan, you suddenly want to put me under lock and key! It doesn’t make any sense!”

Shane shoved his own chair back from the table and stood, regaining his considerable height advantage.

“It doesn’t have to make sense,” he declared, his voice a menacing purr as he moved a step closer to her, his hands jammed at the waistband of his gray trousers.

Faith leaned toward him, heedless of the muscle twitching in his rock-solid jaw. They’d been arguing this same point for hours, never getting past it. She’d had it with his wall of arrogant reserve.

“Why?” she prodded, bent on breaking that cool control of his and getting a straight answer out of him. She inched ahead until the toes of her small canvas sneakers butted up against Shane’s black loafers. “Because you’re in charge? Because you’re on some typically male power trip that dictates you have to have control over a mere woman? Because-”

“Because I’m in love with you, dammit!” he bellowed.

The room went suddenly, utterly still. Faith was certain she could hear the dust motes settling on the furniture. She stared at Shane with her mouth hanging open as his words sank in. He was in love with her. He was in love with her, but he didn’t appear to be very happy about it. Well, she thought, her head swimming, that definitely gave them something in common.

John Banks cleared his throat discreetly, breaking the tense silence. Faith hauled a deep breath into her lungs as she stepped away from the confrontation, her cheeks turning pink. Shane’s broad shoulders sagged as he forced the tension from his muscles. He stared down at the floor, not quite able to believe he had just blurted out his deepest feelings-in front of witnesses, no less.

“Agent Callan,” Banks said neutrally as he rose from his chair, brushing ineffectually at his wrinkled suit, “may I speak with you in private?”

Without a word or a glance for anyone, Shane turned on his heel and led the way out through the French doors onto the stone terrace. He stalked to the farthest corner and faced the sea as he lit another cigarette, noting with grim amusement that his hands were shaking.

Dammit, he was losing it completely, losing his edge, losing his perspective… losing his heart… losing his mind.

“I should have taken the R and R,” he said, wryly referring to the advice his boss had given him after the Silvanus bust.

Banks leaned back against the stone wall that surrounded the terrace, his tired eyes calmly studying his best agent. “What? And miss all this fun?”

Shane shot him a venomous look that had the older man chuckling wearily and mumbling under his breath, “The bigger they are…”

Sidestepping the comment, Shane went back to what the professional in him considered the heart of the matter-the case. “I won’t let her play bait in this game.”

“She’s serious about ending this thing, Shane. She wouldn’t have called me in otherwise.”

“I don’t care how serious she is. She’s not calling the shots here; she’s a civilian.”

“Yes, she’s a civilian. Meaning she doesn’t have to take orders from us. If she wants to walk down the main street of Anastasia and invite this creep to take a shot at her, you couldn’t do a damn thing to stop her.”

Shane’s eyes narrowed and glittered dangerously as he said, “You want to make a bet?”

“What are you going to do?” Banks asked with a sarcastic laugh. “Hit her over the head with your dinosaur bone and carry her off to your cave? This is the modern era, pal. Ladies have minds of their own, believe me. Besides, she does have a say in this; it’s her life we’re tinkering with.”

Looking every inch like a cornered panther, Shane wheeled on the man who knew him better than anyone. “I mean it, John. I won’t have her put in any more danger than she’s already in.”

Banks didn’t flinch at the outburst, didn’t blink. “What’s the problem here, Shane? What Faith is proposing is our original scenario taken just one step further. We’re dealing with a single player, a single variable who may or may not be dangerous. So far he’s been long on threats and short on action.”

Shane gave a harsh laugh. “That’s supposed to make it okay? He hasn’t actually killed her yet, so we should give him one good shot at it-just in case he’s really serious?”

Ignoring the sarcasm, Banks pressed on. “We can make certain he won’t have a chance of getting to her.”

Shane’s jaw clenched as he turned to stare out at the ocean again. His voice was low and strained. “There’s always a chance.”

For a long moment the only sound was that of the ocean pounding the shore a hundred feet below. The wind whipped at Banks’s wildly mussed hair as he turned and leaned his forearms on top of the stone wall. “This isn’t Quantico, Shane,” he said softly, his voice almost gentle. “She’s not Ellie.”

Shane’s heart clenched at the comparison. He had loved Ellie Adamson. He had lost her because his emotions had clouded his judgment. Now he prayed his old friend and colleague was right, because he knew with bleak certainty that if he lost Faith, he would lose everything. She was his hope, his salvation, his one slim chance at a future that wasn’t empty. What he felt for her was so intense, it was like a fire in his soul where for so long there had been nothing but cold and darkness.

“We’ll do it her way.” Banks made the announcement, then took a deep breath and changed the subject. “Rumor has it Strauss bought a boat in Mazatlan. Looks like he’s taking his act south after all.”

“Yeah,” Shane commented absently, not really listening. His gaze had fallen on Faith as she came through the French doors and onto the terrace.

He loved her. He’d forgotten how painful love could be. It was a relentless ache inside him-knowing he loved her and being terrified of losing her.

How had such an innocent woman become entangled in such a dangerous situation? Faith didn’t belong in the world of espionage. Of course, Shane acknowledged the irony, he never would have met her otherwise. Bitterly he wondered if they wouldn’t have both been better off. Certainly she would have been.

“If you’ll excuse me, Ms. Kincaid,” Banks said, straightening away from the wall. He smoothed his hands over the lapels of his hopelessly rumpled suit and gave Faith a wry smile. “I believe I’ll go freshen up before we discuss this further.”

“Of course,” Faith murmured, her eyes on Shane as his boss made his exit.

“You’re getting your wish,” he said flatly, tossing down his cigarette and grinding it against the flagstone with his shoe.

Faith wondered if he realized the thing she had wished for most was his love. He was giving her that, albeit begrudgingly-but it was a start at least. The next step was to close the door on her past so they could be free to look for a future together. It was clear by Shane’s stony expression that her idea for achieving that end was the wish he was talking about.

She folded her arms over her chest as the wind cut through the yellow Shaker sweater she wore. “It’s the best way.”

His expression incredulous, Shane barked a laugh. “You’re an expert?”

Faith met his angry gaze, though tears rose in her eyes. She was all through backing away from trouble, even when it came in a six-foot-four-inch package. “I’m an expert at feeling helpless and afraid and manipulated. I have to put an end to that, Shane. Please understand.”

He stared at her for a long moment, unable to reconcile the conflicts within himself. She was asking for his support, but he was simply too afraid to give it to her. She wanted to risk her life and have his blessing to do it. Anger burned in his chest. How dare she make him love her, then ask him to let her get killed. Dammit, why couldn’t she have left his heart alone? That was where he belonged-alone, in the shadows.

Emotions roiling inside him like an angry sea, he said, “Do what you want.”

Faith squeezed her eyes shut against the pain and held her breath as she listened to him walk away.

It wasn’t a bad evening by coastal standards, Faith thought as she wandered away from the house, strolling through the lush grass twenty yards in from the edge of the cliff. Clouds had rolled in, promising rain later on, but the fog bank that was such a constant this time of year was nothing more than wisps tonight. Bits of it floated past her like thin strips of cotton candy. She tucked her hands into the pockets of her cardigan, hunched her shoulders against the chill, and walked on.

Dinner had come and gone, a vague memory of frozen pizza eaten during the discussion of the case. Setting a trap to catch the man terrorizing her had been Faith’s idea, but she remembered little of the conversation. Shane had occupied her attention almost to the exclusion of all else.

Her heart ached-not so much because of him as for him. He’d declared his love for her, but there was little doubt in her mind he would sooner have cut out his tongue. Immediately he had withdrawn from her-physically and emotionally-pulling back behind those gray granite walls of his. The tension that had thickened the air between them since that moment had driven her out of the house.

Oh, it wasn’t Shane alone, she admitted as her steps led her down a gentle slope toward the caretaker’s cottage. It was everything-Shane, the case, thoughts of her life with William, memories of the Fearsome Foursome and their days at Notre Dame. All of it had crowded in on her until she’d begun to feel claustrophobic. As soon as she had tucked Lindy in and watched her daughter drift off to sleep, she had slipped out a side door in search of fresh air and solitude.

She let her mind drift now to thoughts of her friends-Alaina and Jayne and Bryan. Their lives had taken such different paths. The dreams they had shared with one another had been altered or left behind or attained, only to discover there was no gold at the end of the rainbow. More than a decade had passed since they had each rushed off with youthful enthusiasm to find their futures. Life had led three of them to meet once again at the same crossroads, and together they had chosen the path that had brought them to Anastasia, to what had once been a fantasy dreamed up by college kids on spring break.

What did the future hold for her now, Faith wondered as she stopped to look out at the sea that was as gray as liquid pewter. Absently she rubbed her keepsake between her thumb and forefinger, and her thoughts turned back to Shane.

He wasn’t an easy man to love, but love him she did with all her heart. Could they have a future together? He’d told her from the start he couldn’t make promises. A man like Shane was married to his profession, and it was a profession that demanded he be a loner. It was a profession that had locked a tender, sensitive man behind walls of cynicism.

She had to hope that after all this madness was past, she would be able to convince Shane the time had come for him to let go of the shadows shrouding his soul, because she was convinced right down to her toes that he was the man she had been waiting for forever. They could have a life together there at Keepsake, a nice, quiet life. And a family. Tingles fizzed through her like champagne bubbles at the thought of carrying Shane’s baby, of holding it and nursing it at her breast while Shane looked on, proud and content.

Turning away from the ocean, she let her gaze wander over the lovely, rolling land that belonged to her, to the eccentric complex of houses that made up her inn. Due west of her, beyond her long driveway and to the other side of the road, the wild meadowland gave way abruptly to rugged hills beautifully cloaked in deep green forest that looked nearly black now in the fading light. And just a few yards to the north of where she stood sat the caretaker’s cottage-a small whitewashed stone building with a slate roof and a bright red door. It marked the northern border of her property with a distinctively Irish flare.

Yes, this would be a perfect place to raise a family. It would be a perfect place for Shane to settle and shed the shell he’d encased his tender feelings in to protect them from a world of grim reality. Faith closed her eyes and pictured the scenes clearly in her mind, praying with all her might that she wasn’t just wasting her time romanticizing, letting her heart chase rainbows.

She checked her watch and heaved a sigh. It was time to head back to the house. Banks wanted to go over the particulars of their plan once again. But as long as she was so close, she decided she would stop in to check on Agent Matthews first. The poor guy had scarcely been allowed to set foot out of the cottage because he was the expert when it came to the phone tap and that was where his equipment had been set up. She bit her lip and winced at the thought of having to share living space with the noisome, irascible Mr. Fitz. Del Matthews deserved some kind of commendation for sacrifice above and beyond the call of duty.

Bringing her fist up to knock at the door, Faith frowned when it moved inward on its hinges as she applied pressure. “Mr. Matthews?” she called as she stuck her head inside.

The place seemed dead quiet. The lights had not been turned on. Shadows swallowed up all the corners of the cluttered living room, giving the place an eerie cast. The furniture was old and worn. Books were jammed haphazardly into a built-in case in one wall. An angry-looking steelhead trout stared down at her from its mount above the cold stone fire place.

“Mr. Matthews?” Faith called again, inching her way inside. “Mr. Fitz?”

Silence was her answer. Gooseflesh rippled the skin on her arms, but she ignored it and continued on into the cottage.

She found Matthews in the small main-floor bedroom sitting with his back to the door, monitoring his machines, earphones clamped on his head. Faith breathed a sigh of relief, only briefly wondering why he hadn’t turned on a light.

“There you are,” she said, crossing the room. She stopped beside his chair, but the questions that had formed in her mind never made it any farther than her throat. She tapped Del Matthews on the shoulder, and his body suddenly slumped sideways and sprawled onto the floor at her feet.

Faith clamped a hand to her chest as if to keep her racing heart from leaping out. For just an instant she froze as her mind absorbed the visual information. Del Matthews was dead. Realizing that, she took two steps backward, ready to whirl and run. She had to get to Shane.

“How thoughtful of you to come down to the cottage, Faith,” a dark, silky voice murmured in her ear. “You’ve saved me a great deal of trouble.”

At the sound of that voice every muscle in her body tensed with a speed and intensity that was painful. She didn’t have to turn around to know it was the barrel of a gun she felt pressing into her spine. The metallic taste of fear washed through her mouth. The need to see her tormentor surged through her but was overridden by the feel of the pistol in her back. The sensation of a weight crushing her chest reminded her to start breathing again, though the tension in her muscles prevented much more than a shallow gasp.

“Who are you? Why are you doing this?” she asked, managing nothing more than a raw whisper.

“Why, I’m an old friend of Agent Callan’s,” he said, sarcasm edging his curiously pleasant, well-modulated tone. “My name is Adam Strauss.”