Game for Anything (17 page)

“
Upstairs.
If you didn't mention your apartment specifically, he may have thought you uncrated the horse in the second-floor display room, and he might have gone to get it,” Tracker said.

Chance sat back down at the table. “Okay. He saw someone he thought he recognized, and he thought he knew where the piece was, so he had the perfect bait to lure the Puppet Master out into the open.” Chance glanced first at Tracker and then at Sophie. “Who did he talk to before he left the party?”

Tracker shook his head. He'd seen Landry kiss Sophie on the cheek, and had felt a stab of jealousy. All he could recall was walking across the room to deliver
the quickie coupon to Sophie. All he'd been thinking of was her.

Sophie frowned. “He could have talked to anyone on the way out.”

“Or he could have set up the meeting after he left. We're no closer than we were an hour ago,” Chance said.

Glancing at her watch, Natalie Gibbs rose from the table. “We better hit the road,” she said to Chance. “I'd like to run a few things down at the office, and then I'm going to go to bed and give my subconscious a chance to mull this stuff over.”

“Good idea,” Sophie said.

Chance rose and walked with Natalie toward the door. “I can think of a lot more interesting things to do in bed besides mull.”

“I'm sure you could, but then you'd run the risk of blowing your cover, hotshot.”

“Ouch,” Chance said as he pulled an invisible knife out of his chest.

 

F
OR A FEW MINUTES
after they left, Tracker was busy on the phone, and Sophie used the time to rearrange the place cards on the table. There was a thought tickling the edges of her mind. It had been nagging at her like an itch just out of reach since… If she could remember exactly when it had started, she might be able to grasp it. Frowning, she thought hard. Nothing.

“What is it?” Tracker asked.

She pressed a hand to her temple. “I don't know. Something that we were talking about…it's just out
of reach. I'll remember when I'm not thinking so hard.”

“You should get some sleep. I have more arrangements to make.”

Sophie felt a band tighten around her heart. So they were back to formality, were they? She'd just see about that. Rising, she moved until she was behind his chair and then placed her hands on his shoulders. “If you're thinking about making some big sacrifice and sleeping on the couch over there, I'll come down and find you.”

“Sophie, you need the sleep, and so do I. I need to be sharp in the morning. I want to get this bastard.”

For a moment she said nothing. His selection of the singular pronoun hadn't escaped her. She carefully lifted her hands off of him before she gave in to the urge to choke him or, better yet, box his ears. Oh, she should have seen it coming. He was becoming as easy to read as a kid's book. But she'd been blinded by him, softened by the day they'd just shared and what she was coming to feel for him. And he'd probably done it all on purpose. For that possibility alone, she was going to make him pay. Later. Right now, she had a deal to close and it was going to take a cool head.

Drawing in a deep breath, she took a careful step back and clasped her hands behind her back for good measure.

“I never thought you were a welsher,” she said.

He twisted around in his chair. “What?”

“We struck a bargain.”

Fury flared into his eyes as he rose and sent his chair flying. She took a quick step back.

“What are you talking about? I've kept my part of our bargain. I agreed to your rules—I've played all your games. Hell, it's bad enough I can't keep my hands off of you. I can't get you out of my head. I can't get you out of my dreams. What more do you want?”

Satisfaction streamed through her. It wasn't noble, but right now she was glad that she'd made him suffer.

He gripped her arms and lifted her off the floor. “What do you want? Do you want me to make love to you right now, right here? Do you want me to make love to you in every room in the house?”

Sophie was very much afraid that she did.
Later,
she thought. They were going to get some things settled first. But with his eyes burning into hers, she wanted him more than she wanted to breathe.

“I can't stop wanting you,” they both said simultaneously.

He already had her against the wall, his hands unsnapping her jeans, dragging them down. She just managed to hear his groan above the thunder of her heart as she gripped him and guided him in.

“I can't stop wanting you.” Holding her hips, he thrust in and drew out.

His face filled her vision. He was angry, desperate, and he was hers.

“Damn you, Sophie.” He thrust in again, withdrew and thrust again.

“I need you.”

This time they spoke together as she fisted her hands in his hair and brought his mouth to hers. They were
both going to have to get used to it. That was the last rational thought she had before the world spun away.

 

W
HEN SHE OPENED HER EYES
, she found she was lying on top of him on the floor. Raising her head, she tried to read the expression on his face.
Stunned. Staggered.
Those were the two words that came to mind. They were the same words she would have used to describe how she was feeling, too.

He raised a hand to her cheek. “Are you all right?”

“Fabulous.”

But he didn't smile. He just studied her as she'd been studying him. “I—I'm not usually…” He paused as if searching for a word. “I'm not usually like a…”

“Rabbit?”

He laughed then, wrapping his arms around her. “I was thinking more of a teenager with raging hormones, but I guess
rabbit
will do.”

“Well, I've never been like a rabbit, either.” She grinned at him. “But why should they have all the fun?”

They both laughed then until they were winded and weak. When their eyes met and held she felt closer to him than when they'd been making love.

“T.J.—” she began.

“Sophie—” he murmured at the same time.

“Go ahead,” Tracker said.

She had to bite down on the inside of her cheek to keep the words from spilling out.
I love you.
He wasn't ready to hear that. She wasn't sure she was ready to say it, not with panic pounding up her spine. Thank heavens for fear and its very sobering effect.

 

T
RACKER CONTINUED
to stare at her as the silence stretched. What he'd nearly blurted out was only crystallizing in his mind. Thinking it, knowing it, was one thing. But saying it—he couldn't allow himself to do that. Not yet.

“We have to talk.”

“No,” he said as a ribbon of sheer panic uncoiled through his veins.

“Well, then I have to talk. All you have to do is listen.” After levering herself off of him, she began to search for her clothes. “But first, I'm going to get dressed and so are you, so we don't turn into rabbits again.”

“Good point,” he said as he gathered his clothes and struggled into them. He needed time to think, and that just wasn't going to be possible as long as she was lying on top of him naked.

“I'll sit on one side of the table and you sit on the other,” she said.

He grinned then. “If you think that's going to help…”

“Any port in a storm.” She ran a hand through her hair, trying to straighten it, and he found himself charmed by the simple, feminine gesture.

“I'm going into the shop with you tomorrow.”

He forced himself to focus. “That's understood.”

She glared at him. “Do you think I'm stupid?”

“No.”

“Then don't think you can fool me by parsing your sentences. ‘That's understood!' Baloney! Natalie and Carter—I mean, Chance—were here for over an hour, and nothing was mentioned about tomorrow. And a
few minutes ago you said ‘
I
have to be alert at the shop tomorrow.'
I
not
we.
I know you have some plan up your sleeve to leave me behind, and I could come up with a better one to foil it. But I'd rather focus on catching this guy so I can get back to my shop and a normal life.”

Tracker sighed. Had he really thought he could fool her? “Sophie, I promised Lucas I would keep you safe. This guy is smart and lethal. I don't want you near him.”

She moved around the chair, then placed both hands flat on the table and leaned toward Tracker. “Our only chance of catching him is if I'm in that shop tomorrow. For whatever reason—greed, arrogance, love of the game—he's going to be there tomorrow. I know it.”

Tracker faced her across the table, determined to hold his ground. “All the more reason for you to stay away and let Gibbs and Chance and me do our job. You'll be in our way.”

He watched the hurt flash into her eyes and felt it slice through him.

“I have to be there because I might be able to recognize him.”

“How? No one has seen him. He may even be a she.”

“When John Landry talked to me about seeing a stranger who looked familiar, I remember that I'd had the same impression at the party. It was fleeting, and I can't remember who it was. But if I see that person again, I think I'll remember. That could be why someone is trying to kill me.”

She was making sense, and Tracker didn't like it one bit. If there was a chance that she could finger the guy, then they could get him.

“Otherwise, he could slip right through your hands, and we won't know when he'll hire someone to take another potshot at me.”

Tracker had to hand it to her—she really knew what buttons to push.

“And I could wear a disguise. Jerry and I are about the same size—and you know how good I am at pretending to be someone else.”

“I know that's what got you kidnapped last year.”

“But you'll be with me tomorrow.” She met his gaze squarely. “And there's another reason why you have to take me with you,” she said. “We agreed when we started this that we were going to be equal partners. That's part of the deal we made—unless you're going to go back on your word.”

“No.” He'd never gone back on his word. He just had to make sure that he kept his word to Lucas, too. “Okay. I'll take you to the shop tomorrow morning.”

She smiled at him. “Good. Now how about taking me with you to bed? Are you game for that?”

A
S
T
RACKER EASED THE CAR
onto the first road with a route number, Sophie drew in a breath of stale, air-conditioned air and tried to subtly wiggle into a more comfortable position. Jerry's jeans were cut to fit a skinny man, and they interfered with her breathing when she sat down. But, all in all, she was pleased with her disguise—especially the mustache. Tracker had supplied the materials and Jerry had supervised the application. A baseball cap hid her hair, and with the addition of mirrored sunglasses, she'd barely recognized herself in the mirror.

Sneaking a quick look at Tracker, she noted that he'd slipped into protective mode again. She didn't want to distract him. The fact that he'd put the top up on the convertible and tucked a nasty-looking rifle behind the seat had acted as a reality check—they weren't playing a game. The purpose of the disguise she was wearing was to protect her life.

“Damn,” Tracker muttered.

The brakes squealed and she glanced up to see that a tree had fallen across the road. She had just time enough to brace herself before the car fishtailed and slid beneath one of the larger branches on the shoulder.

She'd barely righted herself in the seat when she heard a sharp ping and felt the car shake. Someone was shooting at them.

Tracker's hand clamped on her arm. “Do what I say. No questions.”

She nodded.

He grabbed the rifle. “We're going out your door and down the hill on that side. Move.”

She crawled out among branches and leaves. Tracker was right behind her, pushing her through them, and then they were half running, half falling down the sharp incline.

 

E
VEN AFTER THEY REACHED
the shelter of the woods, Tracker didn't let up his pace. He wanted to get as far into the forest as he could before he doubled back. The fact that Sophie was able to keep up with him was a surprise and a blessing. They'd been lucky so far. Very. He'd heard the sounds of bullets hitting stones twice during their mad scramble down the hill. Thank heaven there'd been one to run down and that the tree's branches had provided cover as they'd left the car.

He wasn't going to think of what might have happened if he hadn't put the top up on the convertible.

“There.” He urged Sophie toward an outcrop of rock and fallen trees. He needed a place to stash her so that he could find the shooter. Once they were behind it, crouching low, he signaled her to be quiet. He listened. One minute stretched into two and then three. Gradually, he could hear other sounds above their labored breathing—wind rustling the leaves; a bird sing
ing its heart out on a nearby branch. Another minute went by, and the branches overhead dipped and swung upward as a squirrel leaped to a new tree.

And then he heard what he'd been waiting for: the snap of a twig. Placing his hands on either side of Sophie's face, he drew her close so that he could mouth the words in her ear. “Stay put. Promise me that no matter what happens, you'll stay here.”

“I promise.”

Drawing back, he gave her a smile, then pulled a revolver from his pocket and handed it to her. She took it, then grabbed his T-shirt in one fist and drew him close for a quick, hard kiss. “Come back.”

Another twig snapped. This one was loud enough that he could calculate the direction. Tucking the butt of the rifle under his arm, he rose and ran in a wide arc that would take him back in the direction of the road.

He didn't try to muffle his footsteps. He wanted the shooter to know where he was, wanted to lead him as far away from Sophie as he could. With all the noise he was making, there would be no way to tell that only Tracker was on the run.

In spite of the obstacles—roots, fallen trees and branches—Tracker settled into as steady a rhythm as he could, breathing in and out and letting his mind empty. Twigs snapped beneath his feet, birds shot out from the trees overhead. Any fool should be able to track him. He counted minutes off in his mind. He couldn't afford to think of Sophie now or worry about whether she'd stay put. He had to trust her and focus on the prey he would lure into his trap.

Four minutes into his run, he spotted the kind of tree he was looking for, headed toward it and grabbed for the lowest limb. Swinging himself up into the branches, he began his wait.

 

S
OPHIE SAT CROUCHED
where Tracker had left her, listening and praying. He'd told her to stay put, but she didn't think she could have moved if she'd wanted to. The cold knot of fear in her stomach numbed her. For a while she could track his progress over the carpet of dried leaves and twigs, and for that length of time, she'd known he was alive. Now all she could hear was the wind and the birds.

He'd been gone too long.
The words began to run through her brain, over and over. A quick glance at her watch told her that only five minutes had ticked away since he'd left, but even now, whoever had shot at them could have found him….

More than anything, she wanted to get up and race after him. But she'd given him her word. And whoever had taken a shot at them was playing a deadly game. If she went after Tracker, she might distract him and he might be killed. Just the thought had panic sprinting through her.

Think of something else.
Closing her eyes, she pictured the names on the place cards that they'd lined up on the table in Tracker's library the night before. One of those people was behind this. If she just studied their faces, she might remember what had been there tickling the edges of her mind last night.

One by one she conjured up an image of them. Studious and serious Noah with his dark-framed glasses;
the effusive Chris Chandler waving his hands, the diamond on his pinky catching the light. Millie Langford-Hughes, a fashion plate in one of her wide-brimmed hats; and Sir Winston, a twinkle in his eyes, his hands reaching to take Sophie's.

Stop. She could feel it again—that sensation of something familiar. An image, just out of her reach.

Three shots broke the stillness. Her heart leaped to her throat even as the birds flew up overhead. Tracker. As wave after wave of terror washed over her, Sophie gripped the gun he'd given her. He'd worn it close to his body, and the metal had been warm when he'd given it to her. The gun was cold now. So cold.

Was he lying on the floor of the forest, bleeding even now? No. She wouldn't let herself think that. He'd said he'd be back, and he would. She held on to the thought and willed it to be true.

Concentrating hard on that, she listened. One minute stretched into two. A squirrel raced headlong across dead leaves and up the trunk of a nearby tree. Overhead, a bird began to sing its heart out again.

Too long. Too long.
The words were becoming a chant in her mind. She shouldn't have let him go. She should have made him stay with her, safe behind the rocks. She should have told him she loved him.

A twig snapped. The sound had her gripping the gun and listening hard. She bit down hard on her lip to keep from calling out Tracker's name. If it wasn't him… Letting the silence stretch, she slipped her finger over the trigger, and then, clasping the gun with both hands, she raised her arms and waited.

Another twig snapped. “Sophie? It's me.”

At the sound of his voice, she let out the breath she was holding and scrambled to her feet with a sob. He stood on the other side of the outcrop of rocks. The moment she saw him, she raced around them and launched herself into his arms. “Are you all right?”

“I'm fine,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “You waited for me.”

“You should trust me more. I thought…” The moment she said the words, the image that she'd been struggling against filled her mind. Tracker's body on the forest floor, lifeless, bleeding. “I heard the shots and…” As she began to tremble, she tightened her grip on him and fought against a wave of nausea.

“You should trust me more, too, Princess. There were two of them and they won't bother us anymore.”

Swallowing, Sophie concentrated on the hard strength of Tracker's body pressed against hers, the steady beat of his heart. He was warm; he was real. In a minute, she'd believe it and be able to pull away. In just a minute.

 

T
RACKER WASN'T SURE
how long they stood there beneath the trees. She was alive; she was safe. The tremors moving through her were proof of that, and in just another moment, he was going to believe that they were both fine.

The two men had been professionals and, like the one currently in the hospital, they'd had top-of-the-line weapons. If the fallen tree hadn't provided cover or if the shooters hadn't chosen a place on the road where the woods had been so close…

Tracker tightened his hold on Sophie as he shoved
the thought out of his mind. It was then that he realized she was crying. A wave of weakness washed over him, and for a moment he was afraid that his knees were going to buckle. She wasn't making any noise, and he doubted that she was even aware of it. But her tears had begun to soak his T-shirt, and he felt as helpless as he had over a year ago when she'd cried in Lucas's office.

“Shh,” he murmured as he brushed his fingers along her cheek. “We're both fine.”

“I thought I'd lost you.”

“Yeah,” he said roughly. Then he slipped his hand beneath her chin and tilted her face up. Slowly, he brushed his lips over the tears that were still wetting her cheeks, and then lowered his mouth to hers. Her lips were soft, and the moment they began to heat beneath his, he felt his body begin to relax. Very gradually, he let go of the fear. She was safe, and he was going to keep her that way.

Drawing back, he said, “C'mon.”

“You're right. If we hurry, we can still make it to the shop before I have to open up.”

He stopped short and turned to stare at her. “You're not going there. I'm taking you back to my place.”

“We settled that.”

“I'm unsettling it.” Whirling away, he began to pace. “I'm supposed to protect you, and I can't. I'm not thinking objectively. If I were, I would have figured out that they could trace us to my place. They must have tracked us through one of our cell phones. I should have been—”

“You stop that right now! Objectively speaking, I'd
say you were doing one hell of a job protecting me so far. One hit man is in the hospital and two others are dead.”

“That's just it. There'll be more. This guy—this Puppet Master, whoever the hell he is—will just hire more hit men. I want you somewhere safe.”

Sophie moved toward him then and took his hands in hers. “That's why we're going to the shop.”

“Sophie—”

She squeezed his hands. “Let me finish. They knew which road you were going to take this morning. That means that they must know where your place is. How long do you think I'll be safe there? And how objective will you be at the shop if you have to keep worrying about that?”

She was making sense. She always did, and he wanted to shake her for it. “I'll take you somewhere else.”

“And how long will I have to stay there? He sent two people this time. Doesn't that prove to you that he doesn't want me at the shop this morning? Think about it. He's going to be there to make sure that he gets the coin this time, and he's afraid I'll recognize him. It's the only thing that makes sense. And if I'm not there, he might slip away. I'll never be safe.”

She was right. For the first time since she'd started to cry in his arms, Tracker forced himself to start thinking logically. It was the only way he was going to be able to protect her.

“Instead of arguing, we should be checking my disguise. Is my mustache still on straight?”

“Yeah,” he said. And he'd have to trust that the
disguise would work, just as he'd have to trust Sophie to play her part perfectly.

“All right,” he said as he tightened his grip on her hand and began to draw her with him out of the woods. “You'll come to the shop with me, but this is the way it's going to be.”

 

S
OPHIE DIDN'T LIKE
Tracker's plan. She was playing the role of a customer in her own shop, with Natalie Gibbs at her side. Sophie hadn't even recognized the detective at first. All she could think of when the tall, blond man had strolled up to them on the street was that he'd looked a little familiar. It was only when Natalie had grinned at her and said, “Great disguise,” that Sophie had finally figured out who she was.

Getting past Noah had been a little tricky, but the customers browsing for bargains on the outside tables were demanding a lot of his attention. Now she and Natalie were just two guys, browsing though knickknacks and antiques.

And absolutely nothing was happening. Tracker was at the door of the shop, supposedly helping Noah out. He would run in and man the cash register when needed, but he was really screening anyone who wandered in to browse anywhere near the ceramic horse. Members of Wainwright's security force were also taking turns wandering in and out.

The clang of bells on the front door had Sophie glancing toward it, hoping for a break in her boredom, but it was just Noah.

As he hurried into the back room, she turned toward the window and pretended an interest in the display.
A moment later, he reappeared with two half gallons of lemonade. Serving cold drinks had been Noah's idea. Sophie couldn't help but note that most of the people drawn to the free lemonade in the ninety-degree heat were lingering long enough to purchase something. It wasn't the first time she realized how lucky she was to have Noah. If it turned out that he was involved in the smuggling…

Forcing the thought out of her mind, Sophie glanced at the ceramic horse sitting on a marble-topped bureau near the window. Tracker had insisted that it be set there. The two video cameras aimed at it would record anyone who seemed even remotely interested in it.