“Do I distract you, Claire?”
“Yes, and I can’t afford to let you,” she said bluntly. “I’ve worked really hard to graduate this term. I’m not missing out because I flunked all my finals.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Not if I study, no.”
“You’re really worried about this?” he asked, sounding shocked.
“I guess it’s hard for you to understand.”
“Considering how smart you are, yeah.”
“That’s not the point.”
“What is the point?”
“I’m not going to end up like my mom. She fell apart when my dad died and it wasn’t just because he killed himself. She had no marketable skills, no education to speak of. When we lost the house and everything, she drank instead of trying to make something better of our life. I never want to be like that.”
“And you’re succeeding admirably, sugar.”
“That’s just it. I want to succeed. Not eke by. I’ve kept a 4.0 grade point average all through. It’s important to me that I don’t falter at the last hurdle.”
“In other words, you need to focus all your energies on acing these exams?”
“Yes.”
In the blink of an eye, he had the sexual fire in his eyes banked and he was wearing the expression he’d worn the few times she’d seen him in work mode. “I’ll help you.”
“But—”
“Trust me.”
“I don’t need help so much as a lack of distraction.”
“You want me to accept Ethan’s help on the investigation, right?” he asked, something in his tone telling her he wasn’t exactly pleased about that.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She frowned, not understanding his need to ask the question. “Because it will increase your chance of success.”
“I want to increase your chance of success, Claire.”
“So?”
“Doing well on your final exams is important to you. That makes it important to me, and you’ve had a rough week, the kind guaranteed to wreak havoc with your ability to study and even remember what you’ve learned in the short term. Whether you see it or not, you could use my help.”
“But you’ve got your own stuff to concentrate on. You can’t take time to baby-sit me through my finals.”
“It’s not baby-sitting, it’s helping a friend. And I’m not dropping you off at the library by yourself to study. So your choices are limited: study with me, or try to study on your own with me in the room. It’s your call.”
“You’d probably be bored,” she grumbled.
He looked at her once and then back at the road, his features set in stubborn lines she’d learned to recognize. “Your choice,” he repeated.
“I guess we could try it,” she said doubtfully.
She didn’t see how having him study with her would be an improvement in the distraction stakes.
But she was wrong. Brett turned out to be a great study partner. He knew as much or more about most of her subjects than she did. The only post-high school education he’d had was in the military, but he knew just how to drill her for an exam and help her remember important elements from a class. Even when her thoughts wanted to scatter to the four winds because of everything that had been going on.
He refrained completely from alluding to future intimacy between them and seemed to know just when she needed a break to eat or work out, or just watch television for an hour. He made her laugh and he gave her total quiet when she needed that, too.
He spent time at his computer and on the phone, chasing down leads about Lester. However, he refused to discuss them with her, telling her he wasn’t giving her any food for thought to chew on related to anything other than her studies. When she aced her finals would be soon enough for him to brief her on what he’d learned.
She was grateful because he was right. She was able to put it all completely from her mind, knowing he was working on it. And the weekend flew by.
Claire finished writing and laid down her pencil. As of this moment, she was done with her finals. She’d taken one on Tuesday, two the day before, and this was her last test.
She looked at the clock and realized she’d finished in half the time allotted. She grinned. She’d only been working for forty-five minutes, but she was confident of her answers. Brett had drilled her until she knew this stuff inside and out.
She stood up, a feeling of accomplishment rushing through her that made her feel like shouting. She’d done it. Not only had she fulfilled her requirements to graduate, but she was sure she’d aced all of her final exams. No eking by…success all the way.
Not bad for the daughter of a man too weak to continue living in the face of financial failure and a woman who had hidden from every challenge at the bottom of a bottle. With a feeling of supreme triumph, Claire dropped her exam paper on her professor’s desk. He looked up from what he was doing with a vague expression in his eyes.
The only thing that ever elicited sharp and focused interest from this man was his computer. “Done already?”
“Yes.”
“Congratulations. I’m sure you did your usual exemplary work.”
Claire smiled. “Thank you.”
He waved his hand. “Don’t thank me. Wasn’t a compliment. Don’t believe in them. Merely the truth.”
She was grinning when she left the room in search of a bathroom. She’d had two cups of coffee and a large glass of juice at breakfast.
Brett wouldn’t be back to pick her up for at least fifteen minutes. The last two days, he’d shown up half an hour early and waited for her each time. She’d chided him for it, but he’d said he didn’t want her to be alone. She didn’t think using the community ladies’ room constituted being alone. The campus might be sparsely populated at the moment, but many of the professors, like hers, continued to keep office hours.
She had just finished in the bathroom and was zipping up her jeans when the lights went off and everything went pitch black around her.
Claire bit off a gasp of shock and stopped moving entirely. Was it a power failure, or something else? The chills racing down her spine said it was the latter.
Acting on instincts she hadn’t known she possessed, she ducked down as quietly as she could and rolled under the divider into the next stall. It was the handicapped one and had more space, even if it was too dark to see it. She slowly and silently got onto all fours and then paused, listening for sounds in the room around her. She couldn’t hear anything over the running water of the recently flushed toilet.
She sent up a quick prayer of thanks for the tank taking so long to fill.
She started making her way out of the stall, into the main area. She moved an inch at a time, not wanting to make noise and alert whoever was in the bathroom with her. She stayed close to the wall, both to keep her bearings and to minimize the chance she would run into him.
She was crawling along the wall under the sinks when the door to the stall she’d been in slammed open. She had no idea how it had been unlocked from the outside, but she wasn’t sticking around to find out.
The toilet stopped running and in the silence she heard a rush of movement and then a stifled curse. He’d discovered she wasn’t there. She had to get out of the bathroom.
“I know you are in here, Miss Sharp. You’re not going to get away.” The menacing male voice came from her right and the exit was to her left.
Hallelujah!
Without a second’s hesitation, she leaped to her feet and dove for where she thought the door would be. She missed it on her first try, hitting a solid wall in the darkness, but she spread her arms out on both sides and reached for it. She found the door, but as she grabbed the handle to pull it open, he grabbed her. She screamed with ear-piercing intensity until a gloved hand clamped over her mouth.
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
She bit the hand through the glove and the man holding her swore viciously. Then she brought her elbow back with all her strength and hit his chest.
He grunted, but he didn’t let her go. “Settle down. I don’t want to hurt you.”
She wasn’t buying it. A man who didn’t want to hurt her would not have accosted her in a dark bathroom. She struggled wildly against his hold and then thought of kicking the door. No sooner had she thought of it than she started to do it, making as much noise as she could.
He dragged her backward, but she could smell the fear on him, like a pungent, unpleasant odor. “I want the kill book.”
She tried to bite him again, but he was holding her jaw shut, so she kicked backward with her feet.
His arm holding her squeezed painfully. “Tell me where the kill book is. I know you have it.”
She nodded her head vigorously and he lifted his hand from her mouth. She screamed again, this time managing to evade his hand for a couple of seconds.
Someone had to have heard.
Her assailant must have thought the same thing because he roughly shoved her to the floor and she heard him run. The door swung open and a dark shape wearing a ski mask disappeared through it. She got up and ran after him, but when she got out into the hallway, it was completely deserted. There was a door leading outside nearby, several leading to offices, and one that led to another part of the building.
He could have gone anywhere, but her first instinct would be to run outside, so she headed for that door. She shoved it open, but no man in dark clothes was anywhere around. In fact, no one was around at all.
She scanned the area for telltale movement, but saw nothing. Darn it. She’d picked the wrong option and he was probably long gone now.
She went back inside, frustration and fear-based adrenaline pumping through her.
“Claire, what are you doing out of your professor’s office?” It was Brett.
She spun toward his voice and winced when he used a word she’d never heard him say.
“What happened to you?” he demanded, striding forward until his hands were locked on her shoulders.
She told him as succinctly as possible.
He gave her terse instructions to return to the bathroom. “He won’t look for you there again. He’ll assume you ran.”
She nodded.
“I want to see if I can catch sight of him.”
She nodded again, her voice a little too wobbly to use to good effect, and then went back into the bathroom, turning the light on as she went. She doubted Brett would find him, but if anyone had a chance, it was the former mercenary.
She took the time to wash her hands and arms and face. Crawling along a bathroom floor was bound to leave behind major germs. She shuddered at the thought. Far from leaving her more tolerant about dirt, her experiences as a child living with her mom when she hadn’t always had a choice about being clean had left Claire intolerant of even the thought of being dirty.
Brett was back in a couple of minutes, and he walked right into the ladies’ room.
He was all business, his expression hard with concentration. “I didn’t see anything. Let’s go talk to the other people in this building and find out if anyone else did.”
“Okay.” She moved toward the door, but he stopped her.
He touched her face gently, concern softening his features. “Are you all right?”
“I’m getting to be an old hand at getting attacked in the dark.” She gave him a shaky smile.
He shook his head, his lips quirking in response. “You’re a real trooper, you know that?”
The praise warmed her chilled insides, and she followed him out the door. Fifteen minutes later, she knew why no one had come in answer to her scream. The building was virtually deserted, her professor being the only faculty member in his office, and he had been preoccupied with his research.
The campus was deserted as much as it could be, situated where it was in the middle of downtown, as well. The few people Brett and she found to talk to had not seen her attacker, or at least given the limited description she had of him.
They were in the car when Brett turned to her, his expression nowhere near pleased. “Why did you leave your professor’s office?”
“I had finished my test and I had to go to the bathroom. I had no idea the building was as empty as it was,” she said in her own defense. “Besides, how could I possibly guess the bad guys would know I was taking a final exam today?”
“It wasn’t exactly a state secret. We both should have realized the potential for something like this.”
“I thought you already had and that’s why you insisted on driving me and picking me up.”
“That was just routine precaution.”
She bit her lips to keep from smiling. He wouldn’t see the humor in his answer or the current situation. It was only her bent sense of the ridiculous that made it funny to her. But she found it amusing in a really sweet way that he hadn’t expected trouble, but behaved as if he did and was still mad at himself for not expecting it.
Talk about being a perfectionist overachiever. Oh, yes, he fit in with his family just fine.
He started the car and pulled out of his parking spot into the city traffic.
He kept checking his rearview and side mirrors as he drove.
“Are we being followed?”
“Not that I can tell, but I’m not going straight back to the hotel, just to be on the safe side.”
“Okay. Why don’t we go out for an early lunch to celebrate me passing my last final?”
“You sure you passed?” he asked in a teasing voice.
“Thanks to your help, I’m sure I aced it.” She turned her body so she could look at him straight-on. He had such a yummy profile, she almost forgot what she was going to say next. Oh, yes…“I really want to thank you for being so understanding these past few days, Brett.”
“Hey, what are friends for?”
“According to you, making sure other friends succeed.”
He grinned and slid her a sidelong glance. “Where do you want to go to eat?”
“There’s a Vietnamese restaurant I like on the west side. If anyone’s following us, we’ll be leading them in the opposite direction of the hotel.”
“I’ve got an even better idea. It’s only an hour and a half to the beach. If you don’t mind Chinese, there’s a great restaurant in Lincoln City.”
“That sounds like fun.” And it did. It also represented a real break from the events surrounding Lester’s death. “Do we get to go walking on the beach after we eat?”
“Sure. I’ll even buy you a kite.”
“Have you ever flown one?”
“No, but it can’t be all that hard.”
She just smiled. “There is a definite technique required. Lucky for you, I’ve got it down.”
“You can teach me.”
“It will be my pleasure.”
“That’s what I’m planning,” he said in a sexy voice that made her thighs clench and insides melt and just that quick, the sexual tension between them came roaring back with even more force than before.
It felt like there were underlying messages in everything they said on the drive to the coast, even though they spent most of their time talking about her classes and how she thought she’d done on her finals.
Once they arrived in Lincoln City, the authentic Chinese food was worth the drive, even without the incentive of a walk on the beach afterward. They both ate with chopsticks and Brett laughed when her tofu kept slipping off hers before she could get it to her mouth.
Finally, he reached across the table with his own chopsticks and fed her a bite. It was intimate, and reinforced the shimmering atmosphere of sexual awareness surrounding them.
“You’re pretty good with these,” she said softly after he fed her yet another bite.
“I spent a lot of time in the Far East.”
“As a Ranger or as a mercenary?”
“Both.” His gaze caressed her as effectively as if he’d used his hands.
She tried to stifle a shiver in reaction and ducked her head to take a sip of her tea.
At some point along the way, Brett had to have decided that sex between them was inevitable despite the things he’d said at Josette’s wedding. He’d been bad for her sense of self-preservation before, but now he was lethal to it.
“You’re done with school now, right?” he asked in a velvet voice that caressed her insides.
“Um…yes.”
“It’s time, Claire.”
And she knew exactly what he thought it was time for. When she looked up from her tea, he was watching her with the intensity of a wild tiger sizing up its prey.
And really, that was too much.
“Tell me about the investigation,” she said in a moment of inspiration. “You promised you would, once my finals were finished.”
His expression didn’t change, but he leaned back in his chair. “All right, but you’re not going to put me off forever. Ethan found out the name of the government agency Thorpe worked for, but it was disbanded twenty years ago.”
“Then, why were the MIB at the memorial service?”
“Someone who knew about the defunct agency and Arwan’s jobs for them must have heard about Queenie’s accusations.”
“You think they knew Lester as Arwan?”
“It’s possible. He had a long career, not everyone in that agency would have been as old as he was when it disbanded. It’s likely that some of them now work for other agencies in high-ranking positions they don’t want compromised by scandal from the past.”
“But who are they?”
“We still don’t know.”
“Do you think it was one of those men who accosted me in the bathroom? He didn’t actually hurt me.”
“I don’t know that, either. It was a gutsy, professional move—or just plain stupid. Could you tell if it was the same guy who tried to smother you?”
“The build was right, but so is that of a good portion of the male population—you excluded, of course.”
“Me excluded?”
“You have the body of a Greek god, and pretending you don’t know that is about as convincing as the thought of you twirling a baton in a tutu.”
He laughed and she grinned back at him.
“He was wearing a ski mask again, but I didn’t see his face. I couldn’t tell if his eyes were the same as the man who tried to smother me. This guy stank of fear, now that I think about it…the man who tried to smother me used an expensive aftershave. One of my professors uses it. This guy could have, too, but I couldn’t smell anything over his sweat.”
“What’s the brand?”
“I don’t know, but we could ask my professor.”
“It’s a long shot and the chances are it won’t lead anywhere, but we have to try.”
“Aren’t you just Mr. Gloom and Doom?”
“I’m hitting a lot of dead ends. I wouldn’t mind having the kill book, either.”
“Why did the man in the bathroom think I had it? He already searched my house.”
Brett shrugged. “I guess he’s grasping at straws and doesn’t know where else to look.”
“He said he knew I had it and it sounded like he meant that literally.”
“Are you sure you don’t?”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh right, like I’m going to forget Lester giving me something of that magnitude. I’ve never even seen the thing.” But then a memory assailed her. Lester laying a composition book down in his lap. “Do you think he would have used something as prosaic as a composition book to keep track of his jobs?”
Brett’s blue eyes flashed with interest. “Why not? It would be a lot easier to hide than a leather bound volume. No one would expect it. Why are you asking? Do you think you might have seen it?”
“It’s possible. He had a composition book open and facedown in his lap one night while we were talking. Now that I think about it, that was an odd thing for him to have, you know? But he still didn’t give me anything like that.”
“You’re right. It isn’t something you would have forgotten.”
They finished their lunch, and then he took her to a kite shop as promised.
She’d been in a couple before, but Fanny had always bought kites for the children at discount department stores. So, the plethora of brightly colored kites, wind socks, and outdoor flags caught her immediate attention and imagination. Kites floated from the ceiling and decorated the walls like nylon wallpaper. A gruesome skeleton was right next to a box kite with cartoon characters all over it.
Just like life…bright happiness could come right alongside grief and pain.
“You look thoughtful,” Brett said from beside her.
She shrugged. “I suppose this isn’t exactly the place for a philosophical moment, is it?”
“I don’t know. I’ve had them in stranger environments.”
She grinned. “I bet you have.”
The shop owner, a short, round woman with curly gray hair, approached them. “Can I help you find something?”
When she discovered Brett had never flown a kite, she tried to steer him and Claire toward the beginner models, but Brett was fascinated by the diamond-shaped fighter kites, particularly one with a lizard on it and an enormously long tail.
“The deltas and box kites are more reliable for lift, especially for a beginner,” the middle-aged owner of the shop said.
“What about this?” Brett asked, pointing to a reproduction of the Wright Flyer.
Claire groaned and Brett looked at her. “You don’t like it?”
“The idea is to relax. Not battle with a kite on the beach. That one will take so long to build, the sun will be set before we even get a chance to get it in the air.”
“Then maybe we should spend the night and fly it in the morning.”
She shook her head and picked up a delta kite that looked like a giant butterfuly with several tails. “I like this one.”
“It’s too girlie,” Brett said with a curl of his lip.
“We’re celebrating me acing my finals, right?”
“Yes,” he said warily, obviously guessing where this was leading.
“I want girlie.”
Brett grumbled, but he bought the pink-and-purple kite. He also insisted on buying the lizard fighter kite.