Mission: Marriage: Bulletproof Marriage. Lyn Stone

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СКАЧАТЬ shower started and he allowed himself the fantasy of joining her. Once, they’d taken turns surprising the other, slipping in the tub and playing with the soap. He grew hard just thinking about it. If he kept this up, he’d have to make his shower an icy-cold one.

      Natalie’s cell phone rang, distracting him. For half a second, he debated ignoring it and letting her return the call, but he snatched it up and said hello.

      Corbett’s clipped British accent boomed through the earpiece. While Sean spoke with him, he heard Natalie turn off the shower. A mental image of drying her with a fluffy white towel had to be pushed away as Sean tried to concentrate on listening to his former boss.

      Corbett rang off and Sean closed the phone as Natalie emerged from the bathroom, finger-brushing her damp hair. She glanced at him, noticed him holding her phone, and froze. “Did he call?”

      “Yeah, that was Corbett. He’s arranged a drop-off for us.”

      She visibly relaxed. “I hope he’s providing more weapons.”

      “Yes, and other supplies. He specifically mentioned a laptop.”

      Her smile made him ache. “Wow, that was fast. Where’s he leaving it?”

      “Bus station, downtown. In about forty-five minutes.”

      “That’s so clichéd it works.” She laughed, then bent over to shake out her short locks. When she straightened, her hair stood out from her head in wanton disarray.

      He couldn’t stop staring at her. She looked like a beautiful, exotic stranger.

      “What?” She lifted a brow. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

      “I can’t get used to you with red hair.”

      Her smile faded. He could have sworn she looked wounded for half a second, before she lifted one shoulder in what might have passed for a carefree shrug if he hadn’t known her. “I know I look better as a blonde, but my hair color doesn’t matter right now.”

      Ah, but it did. Only he couldn’t tell her. He’d learned to paint, alone in his remote crofter’s cottage. Amateurish, true, but every canvas had come alive with her face, her eyes, her smile. And her silky hair the bright color of sunshine. He’d painted the true her, letting the images serve as a reminder of the short time in his life when he’d been the happiest.

      He’d loved her more than he’d ever loved anything, before and since.

      But she knew none of this and never would. He forced his own face into a nonchalant expression. “Give me five minutes in the bathroom and I’ll be ready, too.”

      When she didn’t answer, he hobbled to the bathroom door, feeling like a lovesick fool.

      The area around the bus station smelled of diesel. They parked two blocks away and Natalie got out. She walked on the opposite side of the street while Sean parked since he couldn’t walk. Pretending only a cursory look at Sean, Natalie gave him a quick nod as he went in, limping in his cast. Natalie waited, counted to ten, then crossed the street with a crowd, her bulky sweater and sturdy boots nondescript, her dark-red hair making her blend in with everyone else. She kept one hand in her pocket, where she’d stuck her pistol. Just in case.

      While Sean was inside the bus station, Natalie remained outside, scanning the inevitable group of vagrants and panhandlers hanging around the front. Assassins could easily hide among them, and no one would notice. Well—she wrinkled her nose—except for the smell.

      She kept her back to the brick as a safety precaution. Casually, pretending to be taking in the scenery, she watched people hurrying past. In reality she was searching for anything or anyone the slightest bit out of place. She felt horribly exposed. A shooter could appear from any direction, under the cover of the crowd and the noise, and begin firing. Innocent people would be hurt.

      She breathed a sigh of relief when, a few minutes later, Sean emerged, carrying a large black duffel bag. He hobbled down the street without even glancing at her.

      Again, Natalie counted to ten and then sauntered off as though she wasn’t following him or even heading any place in particular. She stopped to peer in shop windows and lifted her chin to breathe in the scent of fresh-made scones from a bakery. Just an everyday citizen, out for a stroll on a chilly autumn day.

      No one shot at her. Must be her lucky day.

      When she reached the car, Sean already had it running. Slipping into the passenger seat, she secured her seat belt and locked her door as they took off. He drove slowly, not wanting to attract attention.

      “Corbett came through. Though I wasn’t able to spend much time checking out the contents of the bag, Corbett’s pretty thorough. I’m sure we’ve got what we need. Money, weapons, food.”

      “Don’t forget my computer.” Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes.

      “Our computer.”

      Opening her eyes and staring at him, she crossed her arms. “What do you mean? Corbett wants me to work on deciphering some code.”

      “You aren’t the only one he’s asked to do something.” He grimaced. “I may not be an active employee, but Corbett Lazlo is still the best in the business. When he suggests I do something, I tend to listen.”

      She sighed. “All right, I’ll ask since you apparently aren’t going to volunteer. What are you going to do with the laptop?”

      “Corbett wants me to try to hack into the SIS system.”

      This destroyed any sense of relaxation she might have harbored. Appalled, she shook her head. “It’s impossible.”

      “So they tell you. But it has been done and I’m pretty good. I’ve had two years of nothing but practice.”

      “Pretty good?” She snorted. “Hackers have been trying for years. Whatever kind of firewall SIS has in place is top-notch.”

      With a grin, he shrugged. “I’m not trying to get into the supersecured area, just far enough to wreak a little havoc. All I can do is try.”

      “True. Say you do succeed. What then?”

      “Corbett thinks we should set a trap. It’s highly likely the mole’s still got people there.” Steering around a sharp curve, he shot her a look. “What about you? What’s this code Corbett wants you to crack?”

      Reaching into her backpack, she withdrew a small plastic case. “Corbett wants me to compare his code to this one.”

      She opened the case to show him the tiny flash drive. “It’s the code I was working on at headquarters, the one I’d brought home with me the night my team was slaughtered. As you probably know, we’re forbidden to take anything out of the lab. So no one at SIS knows I have it.”

      “That’s not like you. Or,” he amended, “at least not the way I remember you. That’s a safety precaution.”

      “Yes, but not following that particular rule just might save my life if I can finish decoding this. Someone sent assassins to kill us all. And to destroy the code.”

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