Sandman (Unknown Identities #3) (7 page)

Matthew stared at the door, not quite closed, and wished he had the power to erase her trauma. More, he wished he could forget his overwhelming attraction long enough to focus on the lie she
’d told him.

She knew something about why she
’d been taken, but she’d seemed shocked to hear Galloway’s name. It wasn’t adding up.

Renata wasn
’t built for treachery and he wanted a few minutes alone in a room with whoever convinced her to take on more than she could manage. She deserved to be protected and cherished, not exposed to the whims of violent criminals. He smiled, thinking she’d likely cuss him out again if she heard the direction of his thoughts, but he couldn’t help it. He knew she was independent and capable, but he’d always see her as the bright, carefree young woman who only wanted to experience the best the world had to offer.

She was special and to him she always would be.
He’d known it before getting lost in the UI system and nothing had changed. Well, nothing but him.

He heard the water come on in the shower and cursed
the instant, rock hard erection as the memories swamped him. Maybe he hadn’t changed that much after all. He’d never had much control around her, never had to show any. The sex had been amazing.

That was then. Right
now he had other priorities. Like keeping her alive.

When they
’d reached the safety of the barn he’d been too preoccupied to check in at the appointed time. Stabilizing her had been his first concern, then he’d allowed himself a twenty minute nap. For him it was the equivalent of eight hours of solid sleep.

A sniper who could function and concentrate effectively for days on end was a tactical advantage. At least that
’s what they’d told him. He’d even believed it during training. The stamina and endurance were fantastic for a man in his role in the system. He could stay awake and alert for days, run for miles, and outlast any target he needed to track down.

No one anticipated – or cared – what he did with all that
wakefulness when he was off the clock. First he’d read, then he’d worked puzzles. He taught himself to play the piano. He’d beaten every first-person shooter video game created for online or console play. He’d studied everything from world history to art, from exercise methods to gourmet cooking. It had been an intellectual and sensory feast with an unexpected side benefit.

No one realized what happened in his brain when he did go into a sleep state.
He didn’t understand it, but he appreciated it, once he learned how to harness the phenomenon.

Here in this barn, his
eyes had opened and the solution to his dilemma clicked into place. The bomb, shocking as it had been, was the obvious way out of this god-forsaken assignment.

He didn
’t have to kill Renata – no one did – if Messenger believed she’d already died in that trunk. All he had to do was plant the right evidence and not report in. They would have to move before his next scheduled report time, but she was recovering quickly. He just had to get her away from here, and convince her to live under the radar. At least until he could make a deal for her safety.

The deal was the key and it was the
one piece of the puzzle he didn’t have, but he’d learned that a sleepless man with determination could do anything.

She
’d frequently talked of her family’s remote vineyards in Italy. While Messenger’s reach was long, as long as she didn’t stir up trouble, the bastard would have no cause to go looking for a dead woman.

He checked his watch as he packed up the evidence of their stay. The next required
contact was in thirty minutes. He wouldn’t make the call. A new temptation danced at the edges of his busy mind: what if he never called in again?

There
’d been a gunfight and a car bomb. A little blood in the right places and he could make his own death a believable scenario for the poor lackey Messenger would send out here to confirm the situation. But if he disappeared, who would deal for Renata’s long-term safety?

Matthew pushed his mind
away from the future and back toward other concerns. Once they got out of here, he had to get her to open up, otherwise he might inadvertently put her in more danger.

The thought brought him right back to the
car bomb. Logic dictated it had been a GPS trigger that started the countdown. But if that had been the case, why didn’t it just go off when they arrived? No, Matthew suspected there was some other check involved. There were few experts who could rig such a complicated device, and he suspected most of them were under Messenger’s thumb. It wasn’t a comforting thought.

Had there been
a chase car he hadn’t spotted? Thinking back, he didn’t recall any other traffic noise when the kidnapper had pulled onto the gravel drive. Possibly someone affiliated with UI or the kidnapper had been planted close enough to push the button at the right time, which made him wonder why the ‘right time’ was after Renata was clear.

Not
UI, then, he decided. Messenger’s orders were firm. He wanted Renata
and
the kidnapper dead. Another UI agent would have blown the car as soon as it arrived. Worst case, they would have blown the car as soon as Renata leaped from the trunk. Messenger always got what he wanted.

Matthew suppressed the urge to be sick. He couldn
’t shake the regret over following the recent orders to put down a fellow agent. The man’s face haunted him, might haunt him forever.

The water shut off and he
distracted himself with the recollection of Renata’s lovely body as he listened to her movements on the other side of that slightly open door. She used to emerge from long soaks in the tub, her skin rosy and fragrant as if she’d just walked through a flower garden.

Of all the things he
’d given up for UI, she’d been the biggest sacrifice. It had been an easy decision because he refused to let his mistakes to spill over into her life, but she was the thing he missed most about being Matthew Horn, Marine.

The door opened and she emerged wearing jeans and a black, long-sleeved t-shirt, with the sleeves pushed to her elbows already. The shower had done nothing to ease the bru
ising around her wrists.

“
Let me get that.” He reached out and took the duffel bag from her grasp.

“
I’m not a weakling, Matthew,” she replied, holding firm to the handles.

The citrine ring on her finger glinted in the lantern light
and he wondered why she continued to wear it. Habit or sentiment?

He
shook off the questions and let go of the bag, spreading his hands in surrender. “Of course not. Didn’t mean to offend.” Where had this steel come from? He remembered her flawless beauty, her sharp humor, and her fun-loving nature.

Her main goals had been to travel the world in search of the next good time. Service as a translator in the diplomatic corps had been a means to that end.
Time spent with her had been refreshing, if not always easy. She had a temper, but it was like a flash-bang grenade, burning itself out quickly without too causing too much personal damage.

“
People change,” she said. “They get stronger – or give up – when life gets tough.”

“
True.” He wondered what events had toughened her up. “But you’ve always been strong.” It seemed her intense personality had matured along with the rest of her. He was the one who had changed and been changed. Damaged. The things he’d done… he wasn’t sure if they’d made him stronger, or weakened him in unfathomable ways. But that reckoning would have to wait. “Let’s get back to Galloway.”

“
What about him?”

“
Come on, Renata.”

With an impatient sigh, she took a seat on the cot and rooted through the duffel for shoes and socks.
“Is there a plastic bag for my clothing? They might be able to pull some evidence.”

Yes
, he thought, people do change and the proof was sitting in front of him. A sentimental part of him wanted her to be the young woman he’d loved years ago, and yet this Renata was intriguing him more with every movement, every surprising word.

“
That won’t be necessary,” he said. “The kidnapper won’t make it to trial.”

“
Why not?”

“
He died when the car blew up.”

“
You killed the kidnapper? With a car bomb?”

He met her appalled gaze d
irectly. If he expected honesty from her it was time to give a little himself. “No. But the end result would have been the same. I had orders to kill your kidnapper.”

That got her full attention. She paused in the act of tying her shoes and stared at him. Sitting upright she rubbed her hands along her denim-clad thighs.
“But no orders to kill Galloway?”

He shook his head, wondering
which answer she preferred. “Your friend’s in custody.”

“
He is
not
my friend!”

Matthew held his hands up.
“All right. I won’t use the term again.”

She launched into a rant anyway.
“He’s a bully. I want to claw out his eyes for hurting Selena.”

“
She’s not hurt –”

Renata cut him off with a glare.
“She has a good heart. If he showed her those pictures of me as you said, if he made her do something she thought betrayed my trust, he hurt her.”

“
So let’s get even,” he said. “What was in your apartment that he wanted so badly he was willing to sacrifice his chance to gloat over besting you?”

He needed to know the potential threat so he could adjust his e
scape plan for her accordingly.

The color drained from her face and she reached for the bri
ght yellow stone on her finger, running her thumb over the gold band. He tried not to read anything into the action.

“
The first time I came around, I worried this might be about Neal.”

Matthew tensed
, not following the transition. It was the first time he’d heard the name. The tech at the office hadn’t mentioned her connection to any particular man. His gaze automatically fell to the citrine ring on her finger. Why wear the ring he’d given her if she was seeing someone else? “Who is Neal?”

“
Just a ridiculously wealthy man with convenient commitment issues. I was headed to his place in Madrid.”

“
Why?” She was lying, at the very least omitting an important detail.

“
To holiday in a beautiful place with a wealthy man of course.” She pushed to her feet, suddenly busy with sorting through the things in the duffel bag.

“
Renata.”

She whipped around.
“Oh, stop judging me. You gave up any claim on me when you ran off and died without a word.”

And yet she continued to wear
his ring. “If there had been another option –”

“
Stop. Just… stop.” She sank onto the cot again. “I don’t have the energy for this battle. Thank you for the assist on the rescue. If you’ll just get me back to the city, I can take it from there.”

“
No.”

“
No?”

“
You heard me. You aren’t safe there.”

Her chin came up in a defiant tilt as she crossed her arms. He had to concentrate to keep his eyes on her face
rather than her chest. “Am I your prisoner now, Matthew?”

An image came to mind, unbidden, of her handcuffed to an iron bedpost while he buried his face between her sweet thighs until she was screaming his name.

“Oh! I can’t believe you!” She threw the duffel at him. “You know what I meant.”

He cleared his throat.
“I know you’re still in danger and I’m not letting you out of my sight until –”

The
y both turned toward the sound of laughter, but he couldn’t see anyone. “Who’s there?” Matthew called.

“
Dude, this is funny but you have to get out of here.”

Matthew swiveled toward the voice coming now from the doorway to the big barn.
“Show yourself!”

“
No time, Sandman. A Cleaner’s got your number.”

The term for the elite assassins trained by UI struck like a cold hammer t
o his gut. Was this a trick or a trap? It sure wasn’t a training exercise. Cleaners weren’t assigned unless the ammo load was live and the target needed to die.

“
Who are you?” Matthew tossed the question toward the shadows where he thought the other agent was lingering.

“
I’m a friend for now,” the man had moved again.

Which meant
they were on their own as soon as circumstances changed. “Renata, get to the car,” Matthew ordered.

“
Better listen,” the voice said.