A Shot at Love Page 13

  “I know. Genius doesn’t even really do him justice. His mind works like a computer.”

  “He must have been fun at sleepovers.”

  Ky’s lips quirked before he took a draught from his water bottle.

  “So smart, yet he seemed a little, I don’t know, lost?”

  Ky held the bottle suspended in his hand while he gaped at her.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Why do you think he’s…lost?”

  She shrugged.

  “He was wearing clothes that were clean about six days ago, his hair’s a few months from a pair of scissors and he looked a little like a kid whose puppy died.”

  Ky lowered the bottle to the table with such exquisite precision and controlled timing, Gemma worried she’d said something wrong.

  “I imagine being such an astute observer is what makes you such a fabulous photographer,” he said after a moment.

  She was too stunned to respond.

  “You’re not too far off the mark. Theo lost…someone. Someone very special to him. Violently. He’s never recovered from it.”

  Gemma stayed silent.

  “He’s pretty much a recluse now,” Ky continued. “Rarely leaves his place. Won’t see people.”

  “He welcomed you in pretty fast.”

  Ky lifted a shoulder. “I’ve known him for most of his life. We’re like brothers. I’m one of a very small number of people he trusts.”

  And she knew how important trust was to Ky.

  “What’s up with all the computers?”

  With a sigh, he picked up the last bit of his sandwich. “He’s trying to locate something. He’s devoted his life to finding it, in fact.”

  “I’m no expert by any sense of the word, but it looked like he had financial stuff on those monitors. Like you see scrolling along at the stock exchange.”

  “Some of it probably was.”

  “What he’s looking for involves stocks?”

  Ky shook his head and then said, “Not the stocks themselves, but the person buying them.”

  “That tells me something and absolutely nothing.”

  Gemma realized what a good friend Ky truly was, by his silence.

  With a deep breath, he sat back in his chair, his hands crossed over his chest.

  His naked chest.

  Her thighs vibrated again.

  Bad thighs.

  “Theo met a woman a few years ago when he’d been asked to speak at an international banking conference in London. She was a financial analyst, also speaking at the conference. They…hit it off right away.” A small, sad smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “She was everything Theo ever dreamed of in a woman, including the fact she was first-generation Greek, something his parents were thrilled about. He proposed within a month of meeting her.”

  “Yowza. That’s fast, but not unheard of. Josh asked Kandy to marry him a week after they met.”

  “That’s fast. But we all knew Theo and Calista were made for one another.”

  “I don’t get the impression this ends well.”

  He nailed her with a gaze that was at once sad and angry. “It didn’t. Calista was killed. Murdered.”

  “What? By who?”

  “That’s what Theo’s been searching for: a name. Calista discovered a huge insider trading scheme within the European and American stock markets. She’d been doing research on certain branches of stock holdings and saw some kind of connection or imbalance, or something. I don’t know the whole story. She told Theo about it and he encouraged her to go public. Before she could, she was gunned down.”

  “Oh, good Lord. And she didn’t tell Theo the names of the people involved?”

  “No. She died before she could. He’s been searching for the people responsible ever since, because he believes her death is connected to what she’d discovered.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes. He’s promised when he finds the link he’ll let me know. I’ve vowed to help him bring those responsible to justice. Justice for Calista. And closure for Theo.”

  “When? Not if?”

  “There is no if with Theo. If it takes him until the day he dies, he’ll find out who did this.”

  Gemma stared across the table at him for a moment. “I think you’re a very good friend and he’s very lucky to call you one.”

  When he didn’t say anything else, Gemma realized something else about Special Agent Pappandreos: he was a man who kept his word.

  “Okay, well,” she said, rising. “It’s getting later by the second. Thanks for making me the sandwich and not shooting me.” She rinsed the dishes in the sink.

  “There was never any danger of that happening.”

  She jumped when he came up next to her.

  Jesus, the guy moved fast. She hadn’t even heard him rise from his chair.

  “Well, okay, but you weren’t the one with a gun pointed at your face. I could have been shot just because I was hungry. I’d like to see you explain that to my family.”

  Ky rinsed his own dish, turned sideways to her, laid one hand down on the counter edge, the other on his waist and leveled a serious glare at her.

  “What?”

  With a shake of his head, his lips pulled into that subtle grin that was beginning to drive her crazy—with need. “I’m too tired to tell if you’re being serious or joking around, but either way, you’re welcome.”

  “Thanks,” was all her mind gave her to say.

  “Think you’ll be able to get back to sleep now?”

  “Yes. I’m not hungry,” her gaze flicked to his mouth, “anymore. The sandwiches helped.”

  He nodded. “Good.”

  “Well, then.” She backed away from the sink and hugged her arms across her chest. “’Night.”

  “Good night.”

  She felt his eyes on her until she turned the corner and headed up the stairs. She wanted to look down from the landing to see if he’d moved to watch her, but chickened out at the last second.

  Snuggled back under the covers, her rumbling stomach at last calmed, Gemma took a deep breath and closed her eyes, determined not to drift off to the image of a pair of eyes the color of a calm ocean, and a man whose name conjured up thoughts of Greek Islands and warm, white sandy beaches.

  Chapter Nine

  Ky lay in the comfortable single bed, thinking, for close to an hour after he’d bid Gemma good night. His thoughts ran the gamut from safety and security to desire and need.

  When he’d heard movement in the kitchen, he’d assumed it was her, but he couldn’t let his guard down even so. When she’d backed away from the refrigerator door, a quick, powerful and overwhelming bullet of lust shot right through him, ricocheting from his head to his toes. The fridge light silhouetted her body, framing it and giving him a pretty clear view of what lay underneath her miniscule T-shirt and shorts. He got hard in an instant, unable to prevent his body from reacting to the gorgeous, nearly naked, woman before him.

  Yards of slim, smooth, and bare leg had his imagination shooting straight to what those legs would feel like wrapped around his waist. The shirt came to just above the shorts’ waistband, affording him a glimpse at a very toned and flat abdomen. She was braless, a fact that was illustrated in full detail when his gaze zeroed in on her pointed nipples.

  It took every ounce of willpower and thought he could muster to tamp his reaction down to prevent her from seeing what she did to him. He’d been able to suppress his raging desire until she’d unconsciously sent it roaring again when she licked her fingers where some jam had trailed. The sight of those perfect bow lips and that pink, wet tongue sucking at her fingers threw him into a tailspin of need. When she’d gotten up to take her dish to the sink, he’d started reciting the Pythagorean theorem in his mind in a feeble attempt to get his body under control
before she realized what was happening and went screaming back to her bedroom.

  It was a sincere testament to his sense of control that he was able to contain himself.

  The woman pulled at him in a way no other ever had. He wanted to protect her, while at the same time knowing she was totally capable of defending herself if she had to. Her martial arts skills alone rivaled his, a fact his ego didn’t even mind. It was time to find out if she could use a gun. He hadn’t asked, never thinking she would need to with him around. But now that they had to rely on themselves for the foreseeable future, he wanted to ensure she had more in her weapons arsenal than just her bare hands.

  Ky knew she was an independent, successful woman used to fending for, and taking care of, herself. But he found, much to his surprise, he wanted to be the one to take care of her, to satisfy her needs. All of them. He wanted her to lean on him, depend on him, turn to him when she wanted something.

  It was simply ridiculous to feel this way for a woman who barely tolerated being in the same room with him.

  When sleep finally came, he treasured the few hours of solid rest he got.

  Used to rising early no matter how tired he was, Ky was up when the sun cracked its way into his room. He rose and quickly showered, forgoing his usual morning exercise routine. For a little cabin in the woods, the shower was refreshingly hot and soothing.

  Dressed, he put on a pot of coffee and cocked an ear at the staircase listening for sounds of movement from above.

  When he decided she’d opted to sleep in, he took the opportunity to, as he’d told her the night before, get the lay of the land.

  In the bright, piercing light of day, their charming, tiny cabin in the woods proved to be more of a fortress built to survive Armageddon.

  On his first walk through the night before, Ky found the sophisticated alarm system he’d mentioned to Gemma housed in the pantry off the kitchen. On further inspection he’d been able to discern that it not only alarmed the house, but did indeed, have a co-system meant to protect against an invasion from outside. Ky’s opinion of Bannerman went up several notches.

  Before exiting the pantry, a little niggle of a thought wormed its way into his head and, after inspecting the dimensions of the room, solidified into certainty. The room was smaller than it should have been. That told him one thing: the pantry was more than a pantry. Cautiously, Ky tapped the walls surrounding the shelves and within a minute’s time, discovered where one part of the wall sounded hollow. He pulled back the shelving and a false partition was revealed. Thinking it might be spring activated to open, he pressed against it and was rewarded when the wall swung open into a closet.

  Ky squeezed around the opening and found something that warmed his heart and spirit: a secret stash of weapons.

  Dozens of handguns, automatic assault rifles, Berettas, and even a rocket launcher were affixed to the pegboard wall inside the room, with more ammunition than he’d seen at gun shows aligned in boxes on a metal-framed rack.

  The perfect setup to teach Gemma about guns, assuming she wasn’t already proficient with a firearm.

  Ky’s opinion of Bannerman climbed even higher when he found the garage behind the house. It hadn’t been visible when they’d arrived. But now, standing in the full light of day, Ky saw a structure almost as tall as the cabin, and just as wide, nestled into the berm on the back slope of the hill.

  The entrance door was locked, a numbered keypad affixed to the door. Ky took a chance it was the same numerical code for the front door and his gamble paid off when he heard the mechanical clicks shifting after he hit enter.

  The garage was big enough to house two full-sized vehicles and Ky considered parking their clunker in it to keep it out of sight. That would take half the storage space, the other already housed with a four-wheel ATV. The gas tank was full, the keys in the ignition.

  Ready for a fast exit.

  One they’d, hopefully, be spared.

  A one-hundred-pound heavy bag was suspended from the ceiling beams, something he’d be using later on for sure.

  For the most part, this little mountain retreat would serve to keep them safe and isolated.

  Ky checked his watch and realized it was time to call in.

  “Who is this?” the assistant director said immediately when the call connected.

  “It’s me, boss.”

  A long, deep, and steady draught of air pushed through the phone.

  “Are you alone, Sir?”

  “Yes. Where are you?”

  “I can’t tell you. Just know Miss Laine is safe and we’re secured.”

  “Dammit, Papps!”

  “Sir, please. I don’t have much time on this phone and I need to get some information from you.”

  An infinitesimal moment passed. “Go ahead.”

  Ky had been working out what he wanted to say ever since the long car ride the day before.

  “First, how’s Jon?”

  “As good as can be expected after taking a bullet to his arm and having to undergo reparative surgery.”

  “What’s his prognosis?”

  “Full recovery says the surgeon. Guy’s got a real shit bedside manner, but he’s the best, so I’m confident Winters will recoup.”

  “Good.” Ky waited a moment before saying what needed to be said. He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck and prepared for what was to follow once he’d said his piece.

  “I’m convinced we have the mole, Sir. There’s no other explanation. No one but my team knew where we were going.”

  He waited for the explosion, was staggered when it didn’t come.

  Tiege inhaled deeply again. “You need to include me in that group, Papps,” he said into the phone. “I knew, too.”

  To cover his surprise, Ky said, “Sir, I’m fairly confident I can eliminate you as the source of the leak.”

  A dry chuckle floated to his ears. “Well, thanks for being fairly sure. No, I agree with you. I knew it the minute I heard about the second attack. I’ve tapped everyone connected to this case and can’t eliminate or confirm anyone.”

  “How in depth have you gone?”

  “Trust me when I say deep. LaRoux and Coble were clean. I made sure of it. I even had you and Winters looked at.” He made a disgusted sound and clicked his tongue. “Barly insisted.”

  Ky wasn’t surprised or upset at being targeted. It made sense from an investigative stance. That Davison Barly had pushed for it was the disturbing point.

  “Man is the most annoying pissant I’ve ever had to work with. Why the AG assigned him to this case is one for the books.”

  Ky agreed.

  “He screamed bloody murder when I told him I didn’t know where you and your witness were and had no way to reach you.” That dry chuckle sounded again. “It was almost worth having to deal with him to see how hot and bothered he got. Asshole.”

  “He’s worried the case will fold now because of the Calafano hit. Has anyone been able to get a bead on Ritandi’s whereabouts?”

  “No. Guy went to ground right after Calafano bought it. No electronic communication, all his networks have been offline. That court order to freeze his accounts you pushed for finally panned out. Barly had some cockamamie answer for why it took so long, but as of yesterday Ritandi can’t access the accounts we know about. That includes the ones in Italy and England.”

  “Good. With those funds cut off he’ll have some serious cash flow issues.”

  “Unless he’s got some stashed someplace you weren’t able to locate from Calafano’s info, I’d say he’s sitting pretty pissed at you about now.”

  The phone beeped, signaling the prepaid minutes were almost complete.

  “Sir, I don’t have much time left. I can’t do much from where I am because I don’t have access to my files—”

  “Don’t worry about that, Papps
. I’ve got it covered. I’m betting as soon as the doc will let him, Winters will be all over this. Maybe even before he’s discharged. Just keep your witness safe.”

  They agreed on another set time for Ky to call to check in.

  “And Papps?”

  “Yes, Sir?”

  “Watch your six.”

  “Always, Sir.”

  Once the call disconnected, Ky dropped the phone to the ground and smashed it with the heel of his shoe.

  Looking up, he winked an eye against the sun’s glare.

  Time to make breakfast.

  * * *

  The smell of bread turning to toast pushed her eyes open. For a brief moment the unfamiliarity of her surroundings sent her heart pounding with fear. Memories of the past twenty-four hours flooded through with the next breath and the panic was replaced by irritation.

  Irritation at being forced into hiding; irritation at not being able to see her family; irritation at missing work deadlines.

  Standing under the scalding-hot shower spray, the one thing she admitted irritated her most was her utter loss of independence. Gemma simply wasn’t used to taking orders from other people, nor was she someone who dealt well with being confined.

  Living in Manhattan, she could leave her condo any time, day or night, and she did, often going out to take pictures of the city and its people under the cloak of darkness. Some of the photographs she’d chosen for the new book she’d snapped at a women’s shelter on a cold, rainy midnight several weeks ago. Taken with the wide variety of ages and economic situations of the women who sought refuge from the potential threats of the night, Gemma had tossed an idea around in her head to do a book just cataloging the faces and stories of the indigent and forgotten. She was in the process of solidifying the proposal with her publisher when she’d decided to venture out the day of the shooting.

  Gemma scrubbed her skin with a surprisingly soft face towel and sighed. So much work to do. Frustrated wasn’t strong enough to describe the feeling surging within her.

  After towel-drying her hair and dressing in the comfortable yoga pants and T-shirt she found in the suitcase, Gemma went in search of food.