Against the Wall. Lyn Stone
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would be useless effort to try to escape tonight. He would only come after her, and she had no idea which way she should run even if he did not bother. Perhaps tomorrow would afford her a chance.
It was more than she could manage to stay awake and worry or react to any leftover fear. She would simply have to trust the angels as her mother used to say.
In the dream that followed close on the heels of her surrender to sleep, Solange felt one of them brush a wing over her face to comfort her. It rested lightly on her head for a long moment, a blessing, a promise to ward off evil. She smiled and felt safe.
Chapter 2
Jack stirred the bacon, careful to do it precisely as Holly had once shown him. He was not much of a cook but had been trying to learn. Since Holly was the only woman who worked with him and the only person he knew who didn’t exist on junk food and the occasional outing at a restaurant, she had volunteered.
Holly was slipping in under his guard, and he would have to watch that. Nothing sexual going on, but he was damn close to regarding her as a friend, not just one of the team.
Come to think of it, he had been spending a little too much of his free time with the others, too. Camaraderie was one thing; getting to be buddies was quite another. Maybe this mission would put things back in perspective.
He liked field work, but missed the daily routine in the office. Sometimes he could pretend for days he was just an average nine-to-fiver, fighting the traffic to work where he’d spend all day arranging investments and contacting clients. Visit his parents when it proved convenient. Maybe meet some interesting female for drinks after hours once in a while, get it on later if she seemed interested.
That was his life for about two weeks out of twelve. The rest of the time he was checking out rumors of terrorist rumblings and trying to stamp out trouble before it got underway. So far they had been successful beyond their best expectations going into this.
He thought about the woman in the next room, the pretty little doctor who had inadvertently become involved in this mission. Solange Micheaux was the least likely person he could imagine for getting wound up in any intrigue. What an open book. No guile whatsoever. She was so totally unlike the women engaged in this business, she could blow the whole op and ruin everything.
He pretty much lived for his job now, that of SAIC, or Special Agent in Charge, of a fairly new team called SEXTANT, consisting of six specialists recruited from different U.S. Government agencies. Organizations that had previously spent a great deal of their time bickering over jurisdiction and jealously guarding from each other the info they dug up. With the team’s respective contacts within their old jobs, and full allegiance to the new one, intelligence had a fighting chance of getting combined and doing some good.
Jack was formerly with the National Security Agency, the NSA, fondly dubbed No Such Agency because of its covert nature. The others were from the FBI, DIA, CIA, DEA and ATF.
They all had their own specialties, though they usually teamed up to make use of unique talents. As a rule, only one actually went in undercover. That depended on who was most suited for the job. In this instance, Jack’s French was best, learned at his mother’s knee instead of books or tapes. So was his ability to resolve matters without the use of weapons.
Jack had handpicked the agents on his team. He admittedly chose several of them for their psychic abilities. Paranormal gifts had always fascinated him. While these talents weren’t officially listed on their résumés, their extrasensory perceptions had been extremely helpful so far.
Jack wished he possessed a little mind-reading capability right now so he could decide whether Dr. Micheaux would become a help or a hindrance.
He stirred the bacon some more, then flopped it onto the waiting plates. The eggs were going to be a problem. He always had trouble with eggs.
“What are you doing?”
He eyed the eggs again, reluctant to turn around and face her. She would look soft and deliciously rumpled, he knew. She even sounded that way. Damn, she was attractive. And very distracting.
What was she doing to him? He had to get a grip. Must be her French, that faint Parisian-born drawl like none other, he guessed. Could be she reminded him of his mother a little. She sounded a bit like her. She even had that little one-shoulder shrug he remembered his mother using. Only on Solange, it looked a damn sight more interesting.
“I’m making breakfast,” he answered, his words a little more gruff than he intended. No, it was not Mama he was thinking about at the moment. Not even close.
She brushed past him and reached for the coffeepot sitting on the stove and poured herself a cup. When her arm touched his, he nearly jumped, catching himself just in time. He wasn’t exactly Mr. Cool this morning, he thought with a grimace.
Jack kept doing what he was doing, shoring up his internal defenses, cracking eggs and trying to concentrate on how Holly had taught him to do that one-handed. He nearly crushed the first one and stifled a curse.
“Move out of the way,” Solange ordered and took the bowl of eggs and fork out of his hand.
He watched the impatient little shake of her head as she took over. In no time she had turned out a perfect, fluffy omelette, which she neatly halved and slid onto the two plates he’d put out on the table.
Then she sat across from him and they ate, wordlessly eyeing each other in the way two strangers might do who had shared a night together and could find nothing to say when morning came.
Essentially that’s what they were, he supposed. There was even a faint sexual undertone present, though he had scarcely touched her at all and never with that intent. He wanted to, however, and that was the problem. She couldn’t know that, of course. And definitely wouldn’t share the feeling or appreciate his telling her about his. When they had finished eating, she gathered up the dishes and began to wash up.
He knew he had to gain her trust, and so far he hadn’t done much in the way of accomplishing that. He also decided he would trust her. Maybe it was the tender way she treated the boy and how she had leaped to his defense. There was a goodness about Solange Micheaux that seemed to emanate from her pores like a sweet fresh scent.
“Would you leave that and sit down again?” he asked politely. “We need to talk.”
Immediately she dried her hands on a towel and complied. Why wouldn’t she? He was her captor, or at least she thought of him that way.
She leveled a questioning look at him but didn’t speak.
“There is something I need to explain to you.” Still, Jack hesitated and looked through the doorway at René Chari. “Are you certain he’s still unconscious?”
“He is asleep.”
“Would you check on him and see if he’s conscious?”
“I did before I came in and he is not. His vitals are acceptable under the circumstances. I expect he will recover completely, but not anytime soon.”
“My point is, are you certain he can’t overhear what I’m about to tell you?”
“Why?” She frowned, and the expression tugged at him, made him want to erase it and put a smile there. He had not seen her smile and imagined it would be like sunlight on water.
Jack shook off the thought that was a little too poetic for comfort. “Just tell me if there’s any chance he’s awake right now.”
“None. I doubt he will awaken for hours.”
Jack relaxed a bit. He needed to bring her in on the plan. She would be able to sink him with a word when they encountered Chari, but he was literally betting his life that she wouldn’t. “I have to trust you,” he told her. “May I call you Solange?”
“No, you may not. Are you going to explain now why are you doing this?”
“Yes, Doctor, I’m getting