Naked In His Arms. Sandra Marton

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      Alex’s dark eyebrows rose. The FBI and the Agency didn’t even acknowledge each other’s existence. Not in public, not in Congress, not anywhere it mattered.

      “The new head of the FBI is an old acquaintance and…well, as I say, a situation has arisen.”

      Silence. Alex swore to himself he wouldn’t be the one to break it but curiosity got the best of him and curiosity, after all, didn’t mean he’d get involved in whatever was happening here.

      “What situation?”

      The director cleared his throat. “The oath of secrecy you took when you joined us is still binding.”

      Alex’s mouth twisted. “I’m aware of that.”

      “I hope so.”

      “Suggesting I’m not is an insult to my honor. Sir,” Alex added, his tone making a mockery of the honorific.

      “Damn it, Knight, let’s drop the nonsense. You were one of our best operatives. Now, we need your help again.”

      “I already told you, I’m not interested.”

      “Have you heard of the Gennaro family?”

      “Yes.”

      Everyone in law enforcement had. The Gennaro family was deep into drugs, prostitution and illegal gambling.

      “And you know about the indictment against Anthony Gennaro?”

      Alex nodded. A couple of months before, a federal prosecutor in Manhattan had announced the indictment of the head of the family on charges that ranged from murder to leaving the toilet seat up. If convicted, Tony Gennaro would live out his life in prison, and the family’s power would be ended.

      “The feds tell me they have an excellent case. Wiretaps. Computer files.” The director paused. “But their ace in the hole is a witness.”

      “I don’t see what this has to do with me.”

      “The witness has not been cooperative. After initially agreeing to help, the witness balked. Now the Justice Department is uncertain as to what will happen next. The witness has finally agreed to come forward—”

      “Under pressure,” Alex said, with a tight smile.

      “The witness has agreed to come forward,” the director said calmly, “but—”

      “But, the Gennaros might get him first.”

      “Yes. Or the witness might decide against testifying.”

      “Again.”

      The director nodded. “Exactly.”

      “I still don’t see—”

      “The attorney general and I go back a long way, Alex. A very long way.” The director hesitated. Alex had never seen him do that before; it made the hair on the back of his neck rise in anticipation of what would come next. “He feels that the usual methods of witness protection won’t work in this particular situation. I agree.”

      “You mean, he’s not eager to put this witness in a cheap hotel room in Manhattan, hit up his budget for a one-man guard detail 24/7, count on the hotel staff not to talk about their star guest or sell the info to the highest bidder?” Alex smiled thinly. “Maybe they’ve learned something while I’ve been away.”

      “What they need—what we need—is an experienced operative. A man who’s been in the line of fire, who knows better than to trust anyone, who isn’t afraid to do whatever it takes—whatever it takes—to keep this witness safe.”

      Alex stood up.

      “You’re right. That’s exactly the kind of man you need, but it isn’t going to be me.”

      The director rose, too. “I’ve given this a great deal of consideration. You’re the right man, the only man, for this assignment.”

      “No.”

      “Damn it, Knight, you pledged your loyalty to your country!”

      “What part of ‘no’ don’t you understand, Shaw?” Nobody ever used the director’s name. It hung in the air between them, a deliberate reminder of Alex’s removal from the life he’d once led. “I’d say it was nice seeing you again,” he said, reaching for the door, “but hell, why lie about it?”

      “They’ll never get a conviction without your help!”

      Alex opened the door.

      “They’ll kill the witness! Do you want that on your conscience?”

      Alex looked at the older man. “My conscience won’t even notice,” he said tonelessly. “You should know that better than any man alive.”

      “Knight! Knight, come back here—”

      Alex slammed the door behind him and walked away.

      He drove the BMW back to the airport, dropped it at the rental place and bought a seat on the shuttle to New York.

      Anything was better than another few hours spent breathing the air in a town where politicians kissed babies while the agencies they funded dealt in death plots hatched by cold-eyed men who lived in the shadows.

      He knew it was the same in every other government across the planet, but that didn’t make it easier to accept.

      He had almost a full hour to kill, so he settled into the first-class lounge. The attendant poured him a double bourbon; the brunette sitting across from him looked up from reading Vanity Fair, looked back down, then did a double-take and looked up again.

      Her smile would have made her dentist proud.

      Somehow, the already short skirt of her Armani suit slid up another couple of inches. That was fine with Alex.

      The lady had great legs.

      Come to think of it, she had great everything. When she smiled a second time, he picked up his drink, crossed the room and took the chair beside hers.

      A little while later, he knew a lot about her. Actually he knew all a man needed to know, including the fact that she lived in Austin. Not too far from Dallas.

      And she was definitely interested.

      But even though he kept smiling, Alex suddenly realized that he wasn’t.

      Maybe it was that session with the director. Maybe it was being back in D.C. It had stirred up a lot of memories, most of them unwanted, including what a young innocent he’d been when he’d taken the Agency oath.

      Nobody had told him that words like “serve” and “honor” could be perverted into something that stole a man’s soul.

      His obligation to the Agency had ended the day he’d resigned. Besides, from what Shaw had said, СКАЧАТЬ