Situation: Out of Control/Full Exposure Read online

Rafe placed an icy mug of brew on the counter in front of Heath. "You look a mite unsettled, Mr. Murphy. Is everything all right?"

  So they were back to Mr. Murphy. This morning the old guy had been pleased to be on a first-name basis.

  "Everything's great," Heath allowed, pinning a smile into place.

  Rafe propped on the counter and leaned slightly toward him. His words were spoken just loud enough for Heath's ears only. "Look, young fella, I don't know what your game is, but I don't like what I just saw. I thought you came here for a story. I don't like people taking advantage of my hospitality."

  "I'm here for the story, nothing more and I would never take advantage of your hospitality."

  Whether Rafe saw the sincerity in Heath's eyes or simply decided to leave it at that, he added, "We all have stories, Murphy, but this little gal's like a daughter to me. Don't write anything to hurt her."

  Heath shook his head adamantly and shimmied his answer somewhere between the God's truth and a flat-out lie. "That's not my intent here."

  The older man's analyzing gaze turned hard. "And when you go, don't take anything you didn't bring with you. Got it?"

  "Got it."

  "She was hurt by a stranger like you a couple years ago, I don't want her to go through that kind of grief again." With that said, Rafe went back to tending bar and Heath drifted back into self-disgust.

  Twenty-four hours and he'd lost his perspective.

  How the hell had it happened so fast?

  * * *

  JAYNE LOCKED HER apartment door for the first time in a very long time. She sagged against the door and questioned her motives.

  It was him. He made her feel insecure…uncertain.

  She didn't like that. Didn't appreciate some stranger coming into her life and making her feel…afraid.

  Peeling off her T-shirt, she hesitated. Was that all she'd really felt when he'd held her in his arms? She tossed the garment aside. No, that wasn't all she'd felt by any means. Attraction, she'd felt attraction for a man she didn't even know. She pushed off her jeans and shoes. Okay, so it wasn't the first time she'd had the hots for the new guy in town. But that had only happened once and he had, apparently, realized she wasn't the girl for him since he'd left without even saying goodbye.

  Would she be smarter this time? Avoiding Heath Murphy would be the smartest thing to do. But that wasn't possible. Her boss wanted her to spend time with Heath Murphy…to give him the story he wanted. She dragged her fingers through her hair, releasing the braid, and allowing the long tresses to fall around her shoulders.

  Jayne looked at herself in the mirror and wondered why of all the women in the bar tonight he'd stayed so focused on her. It wasn't like waiting tables would be a pivotal part of his story. Even she knew better than that.

  She hadn't been the most beautiful girl there tonight. There had been plenty of uninhibited young ladies who could have shown him a good time for the night. Something resembling jealousy trickled through her.

  Jayne laughed at herself. She was taking all this far too seriously. Mr. Heath Murphy would blow out of town just as quickly as he'd breezed in. All she had to do was give him the story he wanted and then he'd vanish. The last thing she needed to do was let him take a chunk of her heart when he left.

  With a sigh, she stripped off her bra and pulled on a nightshirt. Trust was something she gave only to her rescue team members. She couldn't trust this guy. No matter how innocuous his reasons for wanting to hang around her. There was always a chance…

  The telephone rang, derailing the one subject she'd put off dealing with. She preferred to stay away from that place. It hurt too much to even consider the possibility.

  "Hello."

  The silence on the other end of the line sent her heart into a faster rhythm.

  "Jayne."

  A rush of affection soared through her, overshadowing the doubt and uncertainty.

  "Dad!" She sank onto the side of her bed and leaned against the mound of pillows. "It's so good to hear from you." A part of her would never understand why he couldn't manage to visit more often, or at least call on a regular basis, but when he finally did call or visit it made the whole wait worth it.

  "How's my girl?"

  She suppressed a sigh. He had no way of knowing just how close blue came to describing her mood to night.

  "Fine. And how are you?"

  The pause before his answer made her frown. "I'm good, honey. As always."

  This time she was the one who paused to analyze his tone, the words he used. Not nearly as jolly as usual. Definitely not his customary choice of verbal play.

  "I missed you at Christmas," she admitted, feeling as petulant as a five-year-old. This was the first time for as long as she could remember that he'd missed calling on a holiday.

  "Sorry about that. I was out of the country. Couldn't be helped."

  Work. Her father's work kept him from sharing his actual job description with her. But she'd read between the lines and seen enough movies to put two and two together. He was undoubtedly a spy of some sort. Probably for the CIA since he spent so much time out of the country. Her mother had concluded as much, but neither of them had ever really known. He neither con firmed nor denied their conjecture.

  "But I promise I'll make it up to you. Soon."

  Her fallen expression lifted. Making up usually involved a visit. She hadn't seen him in…more than a year. A visit would be terrific.

  "When?" He had to hear the anticipation in her voice. She was such a child whenever he called. It was like twenty years ago all over again. His every call, every visit was like Christmas any time of the year. Even when he'd stopped coming at all for months on end, sometimes years, she still anticipated his arrival like most children did Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy.

  But it hadn't been the same for her mother. She'd heard her mother talking with friends. Had heard her use the word desertion in connection with her father. Had watched her mother steadily grieve herself into an early grave. Yet, Jayne couldn't stop loving her father, not even for his past sins. She had no one else. No siblings, no cousins she knew of. No one. He was all she had left in the world. And she had every intention of hanging on until the end.

  Besides, her father was fifty-five. Retirement had to be right around the corner. He'd promised to retire here. In Aspen where they could spend his twilight years together. She pictured the strong man her father was and somehow twilight just didn't fit.

  "I need a favor of you, Jayne."

  The subtle change in the nuances of his tone set her on edge. Something was wrong. She hadn't heard him sound like this in years…not since he disappeared that one time. And back then she hadn't heard from him for a whole year after that tense conversation. She'd only been six at the time but she remembered it vividly. She remembered the tears as well. Not hers. Her mother's. Night after night for months she'd heard her mother crying through the thin walls of their home. And then there had been the hasty move to California, as if staying one more day in Chicago would have been too risky.

  "Sure, Dad, anything."

  "I want you to be very careful. Especially now. Remember I've always told you that I have enemies." She nodded but, of course, he didn't see her, but he knew she understood. "I've always been able to keep you separate from that unpleasant business but I'm not sure I've managed this time. This time is different."

  Jayne sat up, her pulse skittering as much from his tone as from his words. "What do you mean?"

  "There are people who want to hurt me and they will do anything to get to me." A heavy breath hissed across the line. "Including using you, I fear."

  "They know about me?" Fear trickled through her veins. She moistened her lips and bit it back. She would not be afraid. Her father had taught her to be stronger than that. He'd kept her a secret and she'd done the same. It was the safest way.

  "I have reason to believe that they do." Another unsettling pause. "I hate to have to do this to you, honey, but I would feel a lot be
tter if you got out of there. I'd like to stash you away some place safe for a while."

  The grown-up Jayne warred with the obedient daughter who still lived for these rare and precious moments. "But, Dad, I can't do that. I—I have commitments."

  "I know you do, that's what makes the request so difficult, but it would mean a great deal to me if you could indulge me this once."

  This once.

  Hard as she tried Jayne couldn't help resenting that statement. She and her mother had indulged him for a lifetime. How could he use her emotions against her? She loved him, desperately, but this wasn't right. To ask her to do this—to possibly give up everything—it just wasn't fair. These phone calls, rare visits were all he'd ever given her and she clung to them. But this was too much. Even she, despite the child deep inside her who would do most anything for his approval, recognized the injustice of this request.

  "Dad, you know I love you and I'd love to help. Re ally I would, but I can't do this. You're asking too much. As soon as the avalanche advisory is lifted I'll be in the backcountry twenty-four/seven."

  Her soul ached, cried out for her to take back the words, but she held her tongue, stayed strong. She couldn't do this, not even for her father.

  He chuckled softly. "I thought you might say that. So, I'll ask you to at least do one thing for your old man."

  Relief gushed through her with such force that it momentarily stole her voice. She simply couldn't bear being on the outs with him. No matter how little impact he'd had on her everyday life, their connection was a powerful one.

  "What would that be?" she ventured, her voice warbling, giving away the emotion she so wanted to shield from him.

  "Take extra care in all that you do. Beware of any strangers who come into your life."

  She smiled through the tears crested on her lashes. "You know I always do that, Dad, but I promise to be extra careful."

  "Good. Just one last thing—"

  "You mean there's more?" She swiped at her eyes, her heart aching to beg him for the whole truth. Something was very, very wrong. She was an adult now, why couldn't he tell her the truth?

  "No matter what anyone tells you, Jayne, always, al ways remember that I love you."

  And then, with a simple click, he was gone.

  Jayne stared at the receiver for a long while after that. He'd called to warn her. He was in trouble. It didn't take someone in the secret agent business to figure that one out. He was in deep trouble and he feared for her life.

  Beware of any strangers who come into your life.

  At the moment there was only one stranger in her life….

  CHAPTER FIVE

  "He made contact."

  "I know."

  Heath had thought he was prepared for this exchange but he'd been wrong.

  "You know?" How could Cole Danes know before Heath reported in?

  "The place is wired, Murphy. Do you think I'd leave anything to chance? That's not my style."

  He should have anticipated that, Heath thought scathingly. He should have and he hadn't.

  A man like Danes covered all bases up front. "In that case, is there some point to my being here?" Heath re turned, irritated that he hadn't been told about this in the mission briefing—if one could call the demand that he take this assignment a briefing.

  "Your job, as you well know, Murphy, is to keep our bait viable until we have what we need."

  Rage burned its way through Heath's gut. "Not to worry, Danes," he shot back, allowing his irritation to show, "that's my primary mission. I won't be letting anything happen to our asset."

  "I'm sure you won't. He'll be close now. He knows you're in place. She may be suspicious of you for that reason."

  Heath resisted the impulse to suggest that Danes had likely given Stephens his name and description just to be sure the man recognized the enemy in a timely enough manner. But he kept his mouth shut. He had a job to do. He couldn't let his distrust of Danes interfere with that job.

  "You know what I need," Danes reminded before ending the call.

  "Yeah, I know," Heath muttered to himself as he closed the phone and tossed it onto the bedside table. He liked this guy less and less. Cold and relentless is what he was, that much was crystal clear. Uncaring about who he hurt to accomplish his mission. Heath hadn't signed on to work with men like Cole Danes.

  But the internal affairs investigation would be over soon. If Danes got what he needed from Stephens then perhaps the Colby Agency could return to normal. Again he couldn't help wondering how Victoria felt about all this. If Heath was unhappy with the situation he could only imagine how the woman who'd turned the Colby Agency into the thriving, well-regarded firm it was today felt.

  Heath studied the image on his laptop. Jayne worked hard and slept the same way. She hadn't moved a muscle since she'd climbed into bed two hours ago. He'd situated the monitors in her apartment to cover all doors and windows, had installed a listening device on her landline as well as her cell phone. His monitoring of her activities would be strictly on the up and up, allowing her the privacy she deserved when she undressed or bathed. To take advantage of a situation like this would be reprehensible. His observations were for her safety, not for his carnal pleasure. Admittedly, the desire to study her every move for more than simply business had flared more than once, but he'd squashed it without hesitation. He wasn't that kind of man. She needed his protection, not his lust.

  He closed his eyes and thought of the sweet expression on her face when she'd spoken to her father. That call had thrilled her. She loved the man. Missed him. Didn't suspect for a moment that he was a bad guy. Her eyes had shone brightly with emotion. After she'd hung up the phone, she sat for a while, hugging her arms around her knees, looking as vulnerable as the little girl Stephens had literally abandoned nearly two decades ago.

  She'd needed a father then, needed him even now. Heath slowly moved his head from side to side. No wonder she looked at the owner of the bar and grill like an uncle, and the guys on her rescue team like family. She needed that male influence in her life to make up for the past…for the one man she'd longed for all these years. Heath now knew with certainty that her father was the reason she'd avoided long-term romantic commitment. Trusting her male friends was one thing, but she wasn't about to give another man her heart; the single most important male figure in her life had already broken it.

  What a waste.

  Those feelings of protection had welled inside a hundredfold as Heath watched her sleep. But there was no way to make his part in this right. Howard Stephens was guilty of the unthinkable, the worst of which included helping to steal Victoria Colby-Camp's son and torturing him for nearly twenty years. The bastard was evil incarnate in Heath's opinion with only that one black mark against him. But there was more. He and Leberman had killed Victoria's first husband, James Colby. The small group of mercenaries that had once operated within Leberman's dominion had to be stopped once and for all. That couldn't happen without cutting off the head of that poisonous viper, Stephens.

  Jayne would be devastated when she learned who and what her father was. If Heath had possessed any doubt about her innocence in this, it was undeniable at this point. He would be the deliverer of that horrible truth. She would hate him for it. Her life would never be the same.

  Fury swept through Heath all over again at the thought of the call from Danes. That her every move and word was funneled into Heath's laptop hadn't bothered him because he performed his job with the utmost respect. Would not take advantage of the opportunity. But the idea that Danes might be watching as well as listening…that bugged the hell out of Heath. Danes had apparently set up the monitoring system's software to live feed both Heath's receiver and one back at the agency. That move was, as he'd so eloquently put it, a part of his "not taking any chances."

  Heath blew out a disgusted breath and dropped his feet to the cold floor. No way in hell could he sleep. Somehow he had to put a stop to this obsessing about Danes's character. Heath h
ad a job to do just as Danes had been hired to accomplish a certain mission. He, from all accounts, was very good at doing his particular work. Who was Heath to say if what he did was right or wrong? He didn't have all the facts, Heath told him self as he blew out another heavy breath. The only thing he could do was carry out his mission, which was to protect the asset while luring in the target.

  He'd spent too much time already analyzing Cole Danes. Heath had his assignment. He had to remember that things were never completely black and white. Hadn't he learned that lesson the hard way in his last career?

  Pushing up from the bed he decided a perimeter check and a snack were in order. No point lying here watching Jayne sleep via the monitor while the likelihood of his sleeping grew more remote.

  That was just another thing he had to get back under control.

  He had to stop thinking about her as a woman. She was an asset. One who needed his protection. He couldn't stay sharp if he let this case get personal. Maybe he wasn't as ready for his first assignment as he'd thought. He'd spent eight years in law enforcement working cases and doing a hell of a good job keeping objective—what was the problem now? It was this place, he knew. It reminded him too much of the past he wanted to forget…perhaps the setting was throwing him off, making him feel unsure of himself and allowing doubt to take root.

  But he was here. End of subject.

  Heath slipped from the small room and moved quietly down the short corridor, which led directly into the kitchen of the Altitude Bar and Grill. Rafe had told him to make himself at home in the kitchen when he'd offered the only vacant room within the city limits.

  Every hotel, motel and resort cabin in the Aspen area had been booked even before Heath arrived. Ski season was at its peak, not to mention some sort of junior Olympics event was in town. Walt Messina, Jayne's boss and the owner of Happy Trails guide service, had hit up his buddy Rafe for the proverbial "back room." Walt knew Rafe had remodeled the bar's back room into a one-room efficiency when he first took over the establishment. Originally the room had served as a bunk for Rafe's first bartender whenever the snow got too heavy for him to make it up to his cabin or for whenever Rafe was on the outs with his wife of half a lifetime. Nowadays it served mostly as a place for visiting friends to crash when they'd indulged in a little too much of the bar's offerings.