Black Ops Bodyguard. Donna Young

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      His eyes settled on the papers for a moment, before shifting back to her. “I need to make some tea. Would you like some?”

      “Yes,” she said, surprised. She’d expected him to want something sharper, like a brandy or even some wine.

      “What is it?”

      Annoyed, she realized if she were to pull off her plan, she needed to do a better job keeping her expression unreadable.

      She lifted a casual shoulder. “British or not, I’ve never known you to drink tea.”

      “A habit I picked up recently. My jetlag demands something traditional.”

      She followed him to the kitchen, which was more modern in style. Black granite counters, steel appliances stood in contrast to the warmth of the living room. Fit the man more in her mind, but so did the contrast themselves.

      The stuffed bear drew her gaze. Another contradiction.

      Ignoring the small ache in her chest, she picked up the bear and squeezed. A soft lullaby through the thick fur of its belly.

      “Cute,” she murmured and turned it over, noting the Velcro seam. “I’d make sure they have extra batteries. I’ve got a feeling it’s going to get used quite a bit.”

      “I’m glad you approve.”

      “It really is perfect, Cal,” she told him sincerely. “Regina is going to love it.”

      “Jordan mentioned that you and she had become close over the last year.”

      Cal grabbed a streamlined, silver tea kettle from the stove and filled it with water.

      “We did. Actually, it was your doing. The few times we joined them for dinner, Regina and I really enjoyed each other’s company. After you and I split …” Julia shrugged and propped the bear up on the corner bar stool next to her. “We still manage to call each other once a week or so now that they are in London.”

      She settled herself on another stool at the counter. “Are you up for a trip to South America, Cal?”

      “Why?” He grabbed two mugs from the cupboard and placed them by the stove.

      “Jason is in South America. Alive.”

      “Whether he is or not, I’m the wrong person to help you.”

      “You’re exactly the right person, actually.” Julia struggled to keep her tone even. “I’m calling in Jason’s favor.”

      Cal’s eyes flickered over her. “What favor?”

      “Don’t play politics with me.” She gave him a long, cool look. One that sent many aides scurrying from the Oval Office. “Before Jason left D.C., he told me to contact you if anything happened to him. He said you owed him a favor and that you were the only one I should trust.”

      “Trust to do what?” Cal questioned, swearing silently. “What are you planning, Julia?”

      “To rescue him.”

      “Even if I owed him, I’m a diplomat from England and there is little—”

      “I read your file,” Julia said, taking a little pleasure in cutting him off. “You’re ex-MI6. And now work for Labyrinth. Although, why you changed sides isn’t stated. And neither are your Labyrinth missions.”

      “How in the hell did you get a hold of my file?”

      “You’re kidding, right?” Julia nearly smiled at that. He sounded so indignant. Good. It didn’t hurt him to realize she had a few tricks of her own. “You’re the one who keeps reminding me who I work for.”

      “My association with Labyrinth has nothing to do with Jason,” Cal pointed out. “And it doesn’t change the facts.”

      “This might.” She pulled a recorder out of her pocket and placed it on the counter. “Listen.” She hit the play button.

      “Ms. Cutting, I’m going to get right to the point. I have your husband, Jason Marsh.” The words were brisk, businesslike, the tone deep with a gritty, Latin accent. “He is not dead, but he will be if you do not meet our demands. Arrange for ten million American dollars to be deposited in an offshore account of our choosing. You will be given the details once you secure the money. You will have three days to meet with me personally. Do not test us on this. If you notify your government of this request, we will kill him. A hotel reservation has been made in—”

      Julia pushed the stop button. “Sounds like bad guys don’t differentiate between ex-husband and husbands, either.”

      “He could be lying,” Cal suggested. “The odds are that Jason is already dead.”

      “I’m willing to go against the odds.” Her chin shot up, defiant. “Are you going to help me?”

      “Possibly.” When he reached for the recorder, she snatched it away.

      He sighed. “Even if you did meet them, there is no way to call their bluff. No one has access to ten million in such a short time. Not these days.”

      Julia shoved the recorder in her pocket. “I do.”

       Chapter Three

      “If you have ten million dollars, you didn’t come by it legally.” Fury set Cal’s shoulders into harsh, unyielding lines.

      “It belongs to the government,” Julia acknowledged. And Cal knew the admission cost her. “I’ve already transferred the money into a dormant government account. Right before I took an extended vacation.”

      “Tell me how you going to prison for embezzlement helps Jason?”

      “No one’s going to prison. I don’t intend on giving Jason’s kidnappers the money. The transfer can easily be considered a mistake later on. An accounting error. I’ll get no more than a slap on the wrist.”

      “That’s your plan?” Cal raged. Of course, she’d jeopardize her career for Jason. Whether she loved him or not, Jason had an inexplicable hold on Julia.

      Jealousy snapped at his heels, making his next words terse. “You’re traveling into Venezuela without letting anyone know your whereabouts. You plan on dealing with Cristo Delgado and his men by promising money that you aren’t delivering and hope he’ll just hand over your husband?”

      “Ex-husband. I haven’t used my married name in years—” Julia stopped, her eyes narrowing. “I never told you Jason was in Venezuela or that he was taken by Cristo Delgado’s men. You haven’t even looked at the file yet.” She glanced back into the living room. “Or have you?”

      “Who else would he be dealing with if Ernest Becenti was involved? Becenti is the DEA’s administrator,” Cal argued, cursing himself, not liking the fact that anger and fatigue got the best of him.

      “Try again, Cal,” Julia snapped. “You already knew about Jason’s disappearance, СКАЧАТЬ