Книга - Blown Away

Blown Away
Elle James


Overseas, TJ Barton narrowly survived an American Embassy bombing, only to lose two good men: her influential boss and her lover, Sean McNeal.Back in Washington, TJ set out to find out who did it. Undaunted, she maneuvered through corridors of power, exposing the secrets hidden behind every door on Capitol Hill– only to smack right into the broad, familiar chest of Sean McNeal– in the flesh. And she could have, would have decked him if she had the opportunity to get a good shot!Inexplicably Sean had survived and was now undercover. He needed TJ's silence, her help and her kisses more than he wanted to admit. The last thing he wanted to do was draw TJ into a web of high-stakes corruption. But there was no shaking her off and there was no way she was going to let him get killed– again.









Blown Away

Elle James







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


This book is dedicated to my friends Stephen, Debbie,

Janelle, Brenna and Jenny for all their help with the

Washington, D.C., setting and the inner workings of the

Rayburn Building. Without your help, this book would

not have happened. Thank you!




Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue




Chapter One


Sean McNeal strode into the bedroom of the suite, a cup of coffee balanced in one hand. He stood for a moment enjoying the sight of legislative assistant Tessa Janine Barton sleeping. She insisted on being called TJ, reasoning that Tessa was too sweet, and she didn’t consider herself sweet, although Sean disagreed.

Her chin-length sandy-blond hair spread out on the pillowcase in a semicircle and her cheeks were still flushed a rosy pink from making love into the small hours of the morning. The one thing he liked most about TJ was the intensity she applied to everything—her job, her politics and especially sex.

He’d known her only two weeks and, despite his vow to never let a woman sneak beneath the radar screen and clobber his defenses, he felt TJ had done just that. For the past few days Sean had been thinking dangerous thoughts of ever-after with one woman—a stream of consciousness he’d never swam up. TJ Barton with her athletic body, passion for life and ability to laugh just when you needed it most had slipped beneath his skin.

He’d fallen hard and rather than regret it, he woke each morning looking forward to seeing her face on the pillow beside him. What would happen when they returned to the States and resumed their mutually disparate lives? Would he go back to being the perpetually single bachelor, utterly devoted to his job and nothing else?

Sean didn’t want to think beyond today and TJ’s beautiful body lying naked beneath the sheets. Rather than go to work, he wanted to yank off the tie strangling his throat, crawl out of the business suit he felt so alien in and get naked with her. Maybe spend the day in bed, recapturing the magic of last night’s lovemaking.

Unfortunately, he had a job to do and so did she. He leaned over her and pressed a kiss to the erogenous zone behind her ear—that sensitive spot that drove her crazy. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

“Ummmm.” She stretched, her lithe form outlined beneath the sheets. “What time is it?” Her voice was like soft gravel, a sexy whisper clouded with sleep.

“Your meeting begins in twenty minutes.”

Her body halted in mid-stretch and her eyes flew open. “What?”

He really liked that her eyes were the deep brown of dark chocolate in stark contrast to her sandy-blond hair. “You have twenty minutes before you’re expected at the embassy.” He smacked her thigh. “Get up.”

“Why didn’t you wake me earlier?” She sat up, the sheet pooling around her waist, exposing the smooth skin and taut lines of her upper body and pert breasts.

“You looked so sexy, I hated to wake you. Besides, it’s only a block to the embassy. If you hurry, you’ll even have time for this cup of coffee.” Truth was he’d felt guilty for keeping her up making love until two in the morning.

“Haddock will be furious if I’m not there on time.” She flung the sheets aside and stood beside him.

Sean smoothed a hand down her hip and pulled her against him. “I’m all for skipping our meetings and staying here.” Pressing a kiss to her lips, one hand slid up her back and the other down over her naked bottom.

“Ummm.” Her tongue delved between his lips and dueled with his; her hands slipped beneath his jacket to wrap around his waist. She squeezed him hard and leaned back. “As interesting as the possibility sounds, I have to be there. Congressman Haddock is ready to wrap up this meeting with Dindian Prime Minister Abediayi and get back to the States.” One more hard kiss and she pushed away.

Sean sighed. Back to the States. Back to the real world of high-paced metro living, where people barely had time to think much less get to know each other. “Does he still plan to leave the day after tomorrow?”

“If he can, he’d like to leave sooner,” she said from the bathroom. “It all depends on the outcome of today’s meeting. What about you?”

“My plans are fluid. I can come and go as I please, within reason.”

“Must be nice to be your own boss.” She strode back through the bedroom wearing a shell-pink bra and matching lace panties.

Sean resisted the urge to grab her and throw her on the bed. His business was her business, only he hadn’t filled her in on all the details. In his line of work, the less everyone knew about his real job, the better. The outer shell he’d constructed was enough for anyone to know, including TJ.

As far as TJ Barton and personnel at the embassy were concerned, he was a business consultant there to assist the small African nation of Dindi with their application for assistance from the U.S. government through the Millennium Challenge program. His covert duty as a Stealth Operations Specialist was ferreting out insider information on Dindi and on terrorist activities purportedly sponsored by their president’s opposing political party, or any other faction that could impact the congressman’s visit.

He checked his watch. Marty Sikes expected him at the embassy in five minutes. “I need to go.”

TJ zipped the back of her simple black skirt and padded over to him in bare feet. “Will I see you later?”

He nodded, staring down into her shining brown eyes. “Can’t promise when.”

“Me either.” She stood on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I wish the day was already over.”

“Same here.” He returned the pressure, holding her close for only a moment more before he let go. The day ahead already seemed too long and he wasn’t sure he liked feeling anxious to get through it.

“Sean?”

Pausing at the door, he turned toward her.

“This has been crazy, these last two weeks.” One hand pushed her hair behind her ear, a habit she only displayed when she was nervous.

“Absolutely.” Sean’s gut knotted. He’d enjoyed the last two weeks, but was he ready to admit it meant more than just a fling?

She smiled, her face lighting the room. “I’ve had fun.”

His belly flipped over that smile. “Same here.”

Her lips straightened and her brow furrowed in that way he knew meant she was about to say something that meant a lot to her.

Recognizing and reading body language were all part of Sean’s job. Sometimes he wished he wasn’t so good at it. He found himself praying she wouldn’t say anything declaratory, especially the L word. He’d never experienced love and he wasn’t convinced it really existed. Even when he was a boy, that emotion was illusive. The only child of an alcoholic father, he hadn’t known real affection. And his mother had split when he was barely five.

Nor was he certain he wanted the debilitating limitations involved with being in love. He’d watched his pal Marty go from a totally focused, leap-into-action S.O.S. agent to one who stopped to consider all his actions carefully before pursuing the one most reasonable and least life-threatening.

TJ pushed the hair behind her other ear. “When we go back to Washington—”

With his heart pounding against his ribs, Sean felt the sudden need to breathe open, fresh air, even in the smelly streets of Conbanau. He jerked the door open and said over his shoulder, “Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it.” And then he escaped like his life depended on it.



WHEN THE DOOR SLAMMED behind Sean, TJ shook her head. Okay, the guy wasn’t ready for anything more than a fling. She’d suspected that was the case when he refused to open up about his past, his work or anything personal. Oh, he’d shared information about his favorite sports team and the foods he most enjoyed. But who was the real Sean McNeal? What made him tick? And why did he run when she’d only tried to mention a future beyond the two weeks they’d spent in Africa? She wouldn’t ask for marriage or false promises. Heck, she hadn’t even finished her sentence before he bolted.

She slipped her arms into the black silk jacket, glad of its lightweight fabric. The heat and humidity of the colorful coastal city of Conbanau could be oppressive as the day wore on. And today promised to be a very wearing day.

The thought that would get her through the long, boring meetings with the pompous prime minister and his mealymouthed financial aide was the knowledge that Sean would be somewhere in the embassy with her. And, if she hadn’t scared him off, he’d be back in her room that night.

Her body tingled in anticipation and she peered out the window, catching sight of Sean crossing the busy street, dodging buses and brightly dressed men and women walking or riding bicycles. As he wove through the crowded streets to the embassy only a block away, his white skin and dark suit stood out in the sea of humanity. He wore his hair longer than most men, giving him a more daring look. The man was tall, dark, sexy and mysterious, making him everything she ever dreamed of, yet didn’t have room for, in her life as a legislative assistant.

If she hadn’t come to Dindi ahead of Congressman Haddock, she probably would never have met Sean at the little café between the hotel and the embassy. They would never have strolled along the beach at sunset talking about the stars and constellations. And they never would have captured the moonlight in that single, soul-defining kiss that launched them into a night of lovemaking unsurpassed by anything TJ had ever experienced.

She sighed, something she’d done a lot of in the past week. What was wrong with her? Her life was just as she loved it—fast-paced, exciting and purposeful. As a legislative assistant, she had more influence on government decisions than the average American. Since she’d left the FBI, she’d mentored with Mason Haddock, Republican congressman from the great state of Texas. Her work was safe, fascinating and everything she wanted.

Until Sean showed up. He was the icing on the cake. A businessman, not an FBI agent on a dangerous assignment. TJ liked that Sean wasn’t in a career where dodging bullets was just another hazard of the job. She’d suffered through a relationship like that before and wanted nothing to do with danger and life-threatening situations. Give her safety and stability every day. She didn’t miss the late-night stakeouts, being shot at by cornered criminals or waiting by the phone to hear if the man she thought she loved was dead or alive after a particularly dangerous assignment.

Granted, life as an FBI agent wasn’t all shoot-outs and gunfire. They spent most of their time interviewing and digging through mounds of paperwork searching for clues. But all it took was one bullet, one bomb, one strung out junkie to ruin your day—or end a man’s life.

No, sir. Give her a quiet government job where she could help shape decisions through intelligence instead of brute force. Although, sometimes she wanted to resort to brute force when the congressman was particularly stubborn on certain issues.

A quick glance at her watch made TJ gasp. Crud! Congressman Haddock would be furious if she wasn’t there a full hour before the proposed meeting. Which gave her exactly four minutes to find her shoes and join the sea of people on the streets heading in the same direction as Sean.

Dashing back through the suite, she slipped into her serviceable black pumps, grabbed her briefcase and raced down the wide staircase of the five-star hotel. Atypical for the large African center of commerce, the streets were filled with people of all classes of society, each with a purpose for the day.

TJ’s purpose was to get to the embassy in—she checked her watch—three minutes. Half walking and half running, she hurried down the long block toward the three-story, forty-five-room, sprawling U.S. embassy surrounded by an impressive wrought-iron fence and lush green lawns. She could see the building above the heads of the people surrounding her.

With his head start on her, Sean should be clearing the gate about now. She wished she’d woken when he had so that they could walk together and so she wouldn’t be so winded when she arrived. As a legislative assistant, she prided herself in always being calm and collected. It was her job to make Congressman Haddock look good by being prepared and ready for anything and everything. Meeting Sean had thrown her into reactionary mode, constantly running to keep up.

As she neared the imposing building, the throng of people thinned. With the path clear, she was in the homestretch and should make it there only a few minutes after the congressman. TJ slowed short of the gate and dug in her purse for her passport and identification. When she found them she moved forward without looking up.

She bumped into a businessman leaving the gate at the same time as she approached. Her impression of the man was dark hair, intense brown eyes and an expensive pinstripe suit. TJ apologized for her clumsiness, but the businessman didn’t even acknowledge her. He kept walking, his long strides eating the distance.

“Must be in a hurry.” TJ showed her passport and government identification badge to the Marine standing guard. While she tucked the items back in her purse, Congressman Haddock’s empty black limousine exited the compound. Great, he’d already arrived and was probably looking for her.

Slinging her purse back over her shoulder she’d taken two steps across the long, cobblestone drive when an explosion ripped through the air, knocking her off her feet and spewing stone, dust and debris across the green lawns.

The spacious white building with elegant arches crumbled before her eyes, the center collapsing into a pile of rubble. A cloud of black smoke and brown dust rose into the air, billowing out from the center of the blast.

TJ tried to sit up, but when she did, her ears rang and the scene before her spun out of control. Bending forward, she tucked her head between her knees, fighting for control of her senses and the contents of her stomach. When she managed to raise her head, her vision blurred, dust filled her lungs and she erupted in a burst of coughing.

Men and women ran toward a jumble of crumbled stone, jagged timbers and broken glass where the American embassy had once stood. People scrambled around the debris, but nothing moved beneath the destruction. Those who’d been inside couldn’t have survived the blast.

Sean.

As the screech of sirens moved closer, a woman’s wail rose above the noise. The sound emerged from deep in TJ’s chest. She swayed, welcoming the black abyss dragging her into darkness.




Chapter Two


Spring in Washington, D.C. usually made TJ happy. Today, despite the blooming cherry blossoms, her jog was all work. She made her way through Rock Creek Park and down to the towpaths formerly used by the mules that towed barges along the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal. The C&O Canal ran parallel to the Potomac River and was usually a peaceful place to run. But TJ wasn’t in a peaceful frame of mind.

A month had passed since Congressman Haddock’s death and TJ’s subsequent return from Conbanau. The government still didn’t know much more about who caused the death and destruction. Several terrorist groups claimed responsibility, contradicting themselves and sending Congress, the CIA and the president into an uproar for resolution and vindication.

TJ had spent the week following the explosion helping the CIA and the American government with the investigation and arranging for the congressman’s remains to be shipped back to the States. In between dodging reporters and trying to answer questions she didn’t have the answers to, she searched for Sean.

All the surviving casualties had been sent to the Conbanau Mercy Hospital following the explosion. Although TJ insisted she was all right, they’d kept her overnight for observation. She’d managed to slip from her room and find Sean in the mass-casualty chaos the hospital staff was ill-prepared to handle.

Although his head was wrapped in a swath of white gauze bandages, he was the Sean she’d spent two wonderful weeks with. He’d been hooked up to IVs and was unconscious.

TJ wanted him to wake and talk to her, to hold her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right. But he was unresponsive, either due to his injuries or the drugs loaded into his IV. She sat beside him until a nurse chased her back to her room.

Sick over the death of Congressman Haddock, she’d crawled into her lone hospital bed and fallen into an exhausted sleep. She didn’t wake until the nurse came through the following morning with breakfast.

TJ had waited until the nurse left the room and entered the next room down the hall. Then she slipped out to check on Sean.

When she reached the room she’d found him in the night before, another victim from the explosion occupied the bed Sean had been in.

As if in a fog, she checked the rooms on either side, afraid she’d been confused. Finally, she asked a nurse where Sean had been taken. The young woman checked her charts and then placed a hand on TJ’s arm. That’s when she was told Sean had been taken to the mortuary.

TJ stumbled on the path. Fewer people jogged on the dirt, choosing to keep their running shoes clean on the pavement. TJ preferred to be closer to the water and the relative solitude she could find in a city teeming with people.

The nightmares were only just beginning to fade and she liked to think she was getting her life back on track.

But then she’d gotten word from her contact in the CIA that the terrorist attack on the U.S. embassy hadn’t been the responsibility of Prime Minister Abediayi’s political opponents. Nor had it been any of the terrorist organizations claiming credit. The CIA suspected the death and destruction had been bought and paid for by an American citizen and they were digging into the case, more determined than ever to discover the organization or individual responsible.

Her mind had a hard time latching on to the news. An American had arranged for the explosion that killed Congressman Haddock, several legislative assistants, the American ambassador to Dindi and the Dindi prime minister, among too many others. The blast had also killed Sean McNeal, an innocent businessman.

TJ swallowed hard on the bile rising in her throat. With so many terrorist groups killing Americans, she found it hard to believe one of her own countrymen had done this terrible thing. The weight of the knowledge pressed down on her shoulders, slowing her feet until she came to a complete stop. She stared out over the canal, neither seeing the people on the other side, nor the rowers paddling canoes and kayaks along its smooth water.

All she could see was the glint of light in Sean’s eyes as he bent to kiss her. She could still feel the touch of his hand on her bare skin, smoothing down her back and lower. For a man she’d only known two weeks, he’d left an indelible mark. A mark she’d fought hard to erase.

She turned and headed back to her apartment, continuing along the dirt towpath. She caught glimpses of people on the parallel paved path through the trees. One in particular sailed past her, his dark hair and tall build striking a chord of familiarity. Her heart leaped inside her chest and she had to talk herself down from the jolt.

Because she was thinking about Sean, had her mind superimposed his image on the man jogging the other trail? Despite reasoning, she picked up her pace to match that of the man’s. Ahead, the two trails converged and she’d get a better view of him. Not that he was Sean. Sean died in Dindi. They’d taken him to the mortuary in the hospital’s basement and shipped him out even before TJ could visit the body for confirmation. All the paperwork had been in order and his family had requested that his remains be shipped immediately.

After all the hoops the American government had gone through to get Congressman Haddock’s body back to U.S. soil, TJ had questioned the speed with which Sean’s body had left the hospital and country. At the time, she’d attributed it to the fact Haddock was a congressman, and everything in the government moved slower.

The trees and brush grew denser for several yards and TJ lost sight of the jogger. When she reached the trail convergence, blood pounded so hard against her eardrums she couldn’t hear. A blond, athletic man emerged, not the dark-haired jogger she’d been racing to catch.

Feeling foolish, she slowed her breakneck pace, but she couldn’t help scanning the side roads leading up to K Street until she reached Rock Creek Parkway and headed north. Increasing her stride, she reached her street in less than fifteen minutes, cursing herself for allowing thoughts of Sean to manifest into a sighting.

After showering and slipping into work clothes, she pulled a bagel from the freezer and popped it into the toaster. Then she turned on the news, hoping the noise would fill her mind and block out the echoing sound of the explosion still ringing in her ears.



“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?” Kat Sikes stepped out of the conference room affectionately known as the War Room. In the ranks of the S.O.S. agents, shouting matches made it appear more like a war than a meeting of the minds. The good news was that everyone had a voice in the organization and no one was afraid to speak.

Still wearing the shorts and T-shirt from his morning jog, Sean had hoped to reach the locker room and shower on the fourth floor of the S.O.S. operations center without being waylaid. He stopped and faced Kat, his chest tightening at the dark circles beneath her eyes. “I was out jogging.”

“Now don’t look at me as though I’m going to fall apart.” She reached up and cupped his chin. “I’m okay. Really.”

“I worry about you.”

“I know. But I’m doing much better.” Kat smiled, although her lips were a little tight and her eyes were suspiciously bright. “Royce is looking for you.” Before he could respond, she turned back to the conference room and shut the door behind her.

Sean sucked in a deep breath and let it out. How long would it take to get over Marty’s death? The man had been his friend ever since they’d been in the military together. Marty had been the one to introduce him to Royce and the other S.O.S. agents, giving him a new purpose in life since his discharge from the Army Special Forces unit.

Marty married S.O.S. agent Kat Jenkins over a year ago after a very stormy courtship and almost getting her killed on a mission. Sean had stood beside Marty as his best man.

Forcing air past the tightness in his chest, Sean reminded himself to breathe. A terrorist set off that bomb at the embassy. A terrorist was responsible for Marty’s death.

If he’d been on time that day, he’d have died with Marty, a situation he preferred over the gut-gnawing guilt he harbored for his friend’s death. He should have died, too. Then he wouldn’t have to see Kat’s sad eyes or listen to her sobs in the night. She’d moved into one of the spare apartments in the upper level of the S.O.S. building shortly after Marty’s funeral. Right down the hall from Sean’s apartment.

He’d heard her crying when she thought no one was around and he blamed himself every day since the bombing for losing focus on the mission.

When he’d woken in the hospital late in the night, he’d arranged for his body to be transferred to the morgue, forging the paperwork indicating his own “death” and resurfacing under another persona to arrange for the immediate transfer of Marty’s body back to the States. It was the least he could do for his friend when all he could wish for was to take Marty’s place so that Marty could be with his wife, alive and well.

He’d spent the next month hunting down leads on the terrorist responsible for the attack, pushing aside his longing for the woman he’d let get in the way of his duty. If he hadn’t been with TJ that morning, he would have arrived on time. Maybe he’d have found the bomb or seen the terrorist coming or going from the embassy. Or perhaps he would have died in the explosion.

Since the attack, he’d made it his mission to discover who was behind the bombing and bring them down. Sean had already located Manu Attakora, a known terrorist-for-hire in Dindi. He’d found Manu’s apartment with the terrorist dead inside, as if someone had been a step ahead of him in his search. Witnesses mentioned a dark-haired Anglo businessman seen coming and going from the apartment in the days prior to the bombing, but no one could give him a name.

Disappointed he didn’t have the terrorist to question, Sean had located a laptop in Manu’s apartment. He hoped it was the one Manu had used to communicate with the person who’d contracted him. Sean brought the computer back to the States and turned it over to S.O.S.’s resident computer guru. They hoped to have the files decrypted soon.

Back in the States, he’d done everything in his power to avoid running into a certain legislative assistant. His memories of TJ burned in his gut each day following the bombing. Damn it! He was an S.O.S. agent, not a fool in love.

Fools got killed or, through their actions or lack of actions, got others killed. As far as he was concerned, his involvement with TJ Barton was history and was not to be repeated.

Never mind that her face haunted his every memory and that the smell of springtime in D.C. reminded him of the scent of her hair. Today, jogging on the towpath along the C&O Canal, he felt her presence. She was here in D.C. and, even as large as the city was, with as many people working there daily, he stood a chance of seeing her again. A shorter haircut and sunglasses helped alter his appearance, but the woman wasn’t dumb.

He chose to jog early in the morning to avoid any chance of running into her—or anyone else for that matter. Yet, even early in the morning, there were plenty of people getting their daily exercise. The beautiful weather brought out all manner of joggers, bicyclers and people out rowing.

He didn’t know what he’d say if he ran into TJ. How would he explain to her his sudden “death” and reappearance? If the terrorists hadn’t been aiming for Dindi’s prime minister or Congressman Haddock and instead had wanted the S.O.S. team out of the way, he wanted to make sure they thought they’d accomplished the job.

As Sean passed through the office area, Casanova Valdez looked up from his terminal. “Hola, McNeal.” He leaped to his feet and pulled Sean into a big bear hug. “Heard you were back.” Valdez hugged him like he hugged everyone, with a lot of backslapping and exuberance. From a large Latin-American family, he wasn’t embarrassed by blatant demonstrations of emotion. “It’s good to see you in one piece.”

Sean suffered through the embrace, putting distance between them as soon as Valdez let go.

“Hey, Sean.” Nicole Steele’s voice, as smooth as liquid chocolate, drew his attention. Her nickname in the agency was Tazer for a good reason. Her soft blond hair and blue-gray eyes had deceived more than one unsuspecting male. Known for her deadly self-defense techniques, Tazer could take down a man twice her size and he’d never know what hit him. Thank goodness she was loyal to the S.O.S. team.

Sean nodded a greeting.

“Sorry about Marty.” She gave him a weak smile. “It’s good to have you back.”

Damn. He should have jogged earlier to avoid this kind of reception. He didn’t want the ranks of the S.O.S. converging on him. Not yet.

“It’s good to be back.” Although he said the words, he didn’t mean them. Maybe he’d stayed in Dindi so long to avoid just such a meeting with the rest of the S.O.S. team. The organization was small, consisting of one leader and less than twenty agents. Some were out on assignment. The others gathered around him.

The walls closed in on Sean. He needed air.

“Sean, glad you’re back.” Royce stepped out of his office. “I want to talk to you.”

Glad for an escape, Sean eased through the team to stand in front of Royce. “That’s what Kat said.”

Royce motioned toward his office. “Why don’t you come in and take a seat?”

Sean glanced down at his sweaty clothes and running shoes. “So long as you don’t mind a little sweat.”

“Not at all.” He patted his tight abdomen. “Need to get out and exercise myself. I spend entirely too much time behind the desk.”

Sean followed the older man into his office and dropped into a brown leather armchair.

Royce didn’t have a spare ounce of flesh on his body. He was as tough and athletic as when he’d left the Navy SEALs ten years ago. “I know how personally you’ve taken Marty’s death in Dindi, and I admit I’m concerned.”

“Don’t be. I’m going to find who killed him if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Yeah, but you might lose yourself in the process. You threw yourself into the investigation before you’d fully recovered, and you haven’t taken any time off to decompress.”

Sean frowned. He didn’t like the way this conversation was going. “You can’t take me off this case. I was there. I have to find who did this.”

Royce raised a hand. “Relax. I won’t take you off. But I want you to know I’m watching you. If you show any signs of cracking, I’ll yank you off this case so fast you won’t know what hit you. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” Sean breathed in a deep breath and let it out. “Is that why you asked me in here?”

“No, intel came available you might be interested in.”

“If it has anything to do with the bombing, you’re right, I’m interested.”

“Tim got past the encrypted password on the laptop you found in the terrorist’s apartment. He found an enlightening e-mail on it.”

“Anything about Manu’s partner or who’s behind the bombing?”

“No, but we did find Congressman Haddock’s daily itinerary while in Dindi.”

Sean stared down at his hands. That cleared the theory the bomber had gone after the S.O.S. agents. “So the terrorist wasn’t aiming for the Dindian prime minister or just any American.”

“Right. They were targeting Haddock.” Royce tapped the top of his desk with his index finger. “The interesting thing about the e-mail was that it originated from a staff member in Congressman Crane’s office.”

Sean pushed to his feet, hope leaping inside him. “You got a name?”

His boss nodded. “Yeah.”

“Have you called him in for questioning?”

“Not quite.”

“What do you mean?”

“The e-mail account is from one of the legislative assistants who accompanied Haddock to Dindi.”

Sean immediately thought of TJ and just as quickly dispelled the thought. TJ worked for Haddock, not Crane. “Who was it?”

“George Fenton.”

Recognizing the name, Sean shook his head. “Wasn’t he—”

“One of the men who died in the bombing?” Royce nodded.

“Why would he set up a bombing that would take his own life? It doesn’t make sense, unless he was playing a martyr.”

“It was dated from the second day of Haddock’s stay there and overlaps one of the meeting times Haddock had all his legislative assistants with him. We don’t think George sent it. My bet is someone else sent it from back here in the States using George’s log-on. I also got news from my contact in the CIA.”

Sean dropped into a chair in front of Royce’s desk ready to absorb everything the man had to say. A burning sensation built in his chest and radiated outward.

“A lobbyist down on K Street has been pushing Congressman Crane to support the MC application of a different African nation than Dindi, one called Arobo.”

“Arobo is contiguous to Dindi.” Sean sat forward. “Damn.”

“Yeah. It bears looking into.”

“Haddock was on the verge of getting approval for the Millennium Challenge funding for Dindi. I heard that the congressman’s death pretty much shut down the negotiations. In which case, Dindi won’t be seeing any money from the United States.”

“That’s what I thought until I checked.” Royce lifted a sheet of paper from his desk and passed it to Sean. “Not only is Dindi still being pushed, but Congresswoman Ann Malone is leading the effort.”

Sean glanced at a copy of a fax without reading the print. “So does Haddock’s death have anything to do with the MC funding or not?”

“Good question.” Royce’s eyes narrowed. “That’s why I want you on the inside for this one.”

“Inside where? With the lobbyist?”

“No. I signed you on as a staff assistant for Congresswoman Malone. She’s in the office next to Crane. That should get you close. If Crane’s push for Arobo has anything to do with the deaths in Dindi, you’ll be there to find out and also to protect the congresswoman if need be.”

Already feeling the necktie’s stranglehold, Sean stretched the collar of his T-shirt. “You know TJ Barton works in that building. She’ll recognize me.”

“We’ll have to take that risk. We can’t afford not to.” Royce’s lips twisted into a wry grin. “You’re the charming type, I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

Sean wasn’t so sure.

Royce leaned his elbows on his desk. “Do you want me to send Valdez or Tazer?”

An image of Marty dying in his arms surfaced. Sean’s lips firmed into a straight line. “No. I want to find the bastard who did this.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“We may have to bring TJ in on the mission to get her cooperation.” Sean’s gut tightened at the thought.

“Use your best judgment.” Royce settled back in his chair and lifted the phone, the session ended, his mind already moving forward to other matters. “Dust off your best suits, McNeal. You’re going to work in the Rayburn Building.”




Chapter Three


TJ knocked on the open door and stepped into the spacious office lined with wood paneling and rich carpeting. “Congressman Crane, you’re due at the White House in half an hour.”

“That damned CIA’s been crawling all over this office for the past three hours, asking me questions—and everyone else down to the new temp we just hired.”

This was news. “Why?”

“It has something to do with the bombing in Dindi.” Crane slammed his pen onto the desk. “Don’t know why they picked me to target with questions. It isn’t as if I had anything to do with the bombing. Just because I backed Arobo doesn’t mean I’d kill to get the funding.” He stood, slipped into his jacket and nodded at the papers in the middle of his desk. “I’ll need a summary of these reports by the end of the day.”

“Yes, sir.” As Crane moved toward the door, TJ gathered the papers. A plain manila folder lay to the side of the others. “Do you want me to take this one, too?”

His hand paused in buttoning his jacket. “No, I’ll handle that one myself.” Crane brushed at his lapels and stood by the door waiting for her.

She shrugged and followed. Congressman Haddock had given her free rein of his office. Crane hadn’t learned to trust her yet and from all accounts of other staff members who’d had the pleasure of working with him, he didn’t allow anyone in his office when he wasn’t there.

When TJ stepped past Crane, he turned to lock the door behind her, muttering, “They’ll have to come back with a search warrant if they want in my office.”

TJ stared after Crane until he disappeared. Then she glanced around the office where his staff scurried to straighten their desks.

So, the CIA had been here in Crane’s offices? Why would they think Crane or someone in his office had anything to do with the bombing in Dindi? Her contact in the CIA had indicated an American had been at the root of the bombing. Could that American be someone in the Rayburn Building?

As she made her way back to her desk, goose bumps raised the fine hairs on her arms. Her office was still located in the same suite she’d shared with Haddock, but until a replacement was elected next month back in Texas, she’d be working for Crane. Which shouldn’t have been a big deal. Both congressmen worked for the same political party and were on many of the same committees. TJ was familiar with most of the committee agendas and what was at stake.

TJ dodged people moving in and out of offices along the hallway. As she passed Congresswoman Ann Malone’s office the door opened and Gordon Harris stepped out and turned back to say, “John, if you need anything, you have my cell number.”

“Thanks, Gordon.” The low baritone response sounding from inside the office struck a note of familiarity with TJ and she peered around Gordon to see the owner of the voice.

Gordon turned toward her, pulling the door closed behind him. “Oh, TJ, I’m glad you’re here. I have some documents I need you to take a look at and return to me by tomorrow.”

Just as the door closed, she caught a glimpse of the man he’d been talking to. Her heart slammed to a halt and the papers in her hands slipped to the floor.

“Whoa, let me help you with those.” Gordon bent to gather the sheets scattered over the floor. When he stood, he frowned. “You all right? You look as if you’d seen a ghost.”

“I think I have.” Suddenly light-headed, she took the papers from Gordon without looking, her eyes on the door as if willing it to open. “Wh-who was that you were talking to?”

Gordon glanced back at the wood-paneled door as if he could see through it. “You mean John? That’s the new temporary staff assistant for Congresswoman Malone. Name’s John Newman.” He turned back to her, his eyes narrowed. “Why? You know him?”

“No.” The blood returned to her head in a rush. She’d imagined Sean on the jogging trail and now she was hallucinating at the office. What the hell was wrong with her? Her face burned with embarrassment. “I have to go.”

“What about those documents I need reviewed by tomorrow?”

“Bring them by anytime, I’ll look at them.” Just not now. She needed a few minutes alone to get a grip on herself. She dashed to her office, dumped the stack of papers on her desk and headed straight for the ladies restroom. When she reached an individual stall, she slid the bolt home and collapsed against the door.

Why, after a month had passed from the incident, was she having hallucinations? TJ shook her head. As if by shaking her head she could get her brain to return to normal!

Since the bombing, she’d had nightmares about the exploding building, about the hospital afterward and about Sean. She’d never had her bad dreams recur during the daylight hours. Were they taking over her life?

TJ rubbed at the stiff muscles in the back of her neck and stared at the glossy floor and wall tiles. A shaky laugh escaped her lips. Had the bombing in Dindi reduced her to hiding in a bathroom stall? Her shoulders straightened.

No. She was made of sterner stuff than that. After a few cleansing breaths, she opened the door, ready to face the world, her imaginings and herself.

She crossed to the sink and splashed water on her face. With a paper towel, she patted her cheeks dry and gazed at the stranger staring back at her from the mirror. Was that really her? Sure, she went through the motions every day of getting ready for work, but she hadn’t stopped lately to take stock of her appearance. Since when had the dark circles appeared beneath her eyes and why did her cheeks look so sunken? Damn, she looked like walking death.

Just because Haddock and Sean had died in the explosion didn’t mean she had to.

Get a grip, girl.

Less shaky and more in control of her emotions, TJ pinched a little color into her cheeks and stepped out of the ladies restroom into the hall. She poured herself into her work, determined to be too busy to think by the end of the day, hoping that she’d fall into bed so tired, she’d sleep without the awful nightmares.



SEAN WORKED ALL DAY in Congresswoman Malone’s office learning the ropes and the pecking order. Which was fine by him. The more they sent him to deliver documents, the more he got to see and hear.

Each time he worked his way down the hallway, he kept an eye open for TJ Barton. She’d mentioned working in the Rayburn Building and that Haddock had offices here. One half of him wanted to see her just to know where exactly she was. The other, more practical half knew meeting up with her again could blow his cover all to hell. An S.O.S. agent needed anonymity to do his job. The less she knew and the less he saw of her, the better.

On the pretext of making a good impression on the boss, Sean hung around the office late. He planned to stay until after everyone left so he could sneak into Congressman Crane’s office.

After seven in the evening, Sean’s assigned mentor, Gordon Harris, stopped by his desk and plucked a file out of the in-box. “Good, I was expecting this.” Most of the staff had left by six. “Does the congresswoman have you loaded up with assignments already?”

“Not really. I’m reading all the material you gave me earlier and some available on the intranet to better understand what goes on around here.”

Gordon shoved the file folder into his briefcase and zipped the top. “Well don’t stay too long. You’ll absorb a lot of this over time.”

He didn’t have the luxury of time. “I know, but I want to come up to speed quickly. I hear Congresswoman Malone can be tough.”

“She’s demanding, but she knows her stuff. I wouldn’t be surprised if she makes a bid for president some day.”

While he had Gordon, he might as well question him. “I read somewhere that Malone is carrying the banner for the Dindi Millennium Challenge funding. I thought after the bombing, they’d cancel it.”

“She’s a powerhouse when it comes to backing a cause she believes in. The Appropriations Committee will vote on it in a few days. I’m betting my money on Malone.”

The hairs on the back of Sean’s neck stood at attention and he made a mental note to look up the Appropriations Committee’s meeting schedule and location. “Is there any opposition?”

Gordon snorted. “Some.” A diplomatically vague answer to be expected from a legislative assistant.

Sean had overheard rumblings that Congressman Crane was foaming at the mouth because Dindi didn’t get dropped when Haddock died. He’d backed Arobo all along. It would be interesting to see the outcome. Malone and Crane were both from the same party and on the same committee, and they couldn’t agree. But was that reason enough to have Haddock killed? Sean’s mind ticked through the possibilities. Could the members be playing political games gone deadly? “How long have you worked with Malone?”

“Since she was elected six years ago.” Gordon glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to get out of here. I’m supposed to meet a friend for dinner and I’m already late. You need anything before I go?”

“No, I’ll only be another thirty minutes before I cut out.”

“See ya tomorrow.”

After Gordon left, Sean remained in his seat and pulled up the internal roster of congressmen and staff members. Crane had a staff of twenty-one full-timers and four temps; apparently he hadn’t replaced George Fenton. Malone had a staff of twenty-two and four temps, counting him. How many people would they have to cross-reference with the CIA background checks before they got to the right one? He printed a copy of the staff lists to give to Royce. His first stop in Crane’s office had to be George’s desk. He glanced at the time. Eight o’clock. Still early for snooping in another congressman’s office. Instead, he spent time going through all the desks and drawers of the staff members in Malone’s office, saving her inner sanctum for last.

Before he tackled the congresswoman’s office, he made a pass through the suite and poked his head out into the hallway. No one moved and, other than a few lights shining beneath doorways farther down the hallway, he didn’t see anyone. Then a door down the hall opened.

Sean ducked back in and listened for footsteps. They headed in the opposite direction.

Good. If he hurried, he could get into Malone’s office and close the door before anyone saw him. Sean hurried back to the congresswoman’s office, slipping a thin plastic lock pick from his pocket.



TIRED AND READY to call it a day, TJ left her office with a stack of inner-office mail envelopes marked with suspense dates of tomorrow. After she dropped these at various offices along the corridor, she could go home and heat up the leftover Chinese food she had in her refrigerator. Then again, would it be any good after four days?

She dropped two envelopes in Congressman Latke’s office and turned back to hit Crane and Malone’s offices.

Maybe just a piece of toast and a long soak in a hot bath.

Her plans made, TJ entered Malone’s office. Her feet sank into the plush carpeting, muffling the sound of her footfalls as she passed through the suite to get to Gordon’s desk positioned outside Malone’s door.

As she neared the inner-office area, a clicking sound alerted her that she wasn’t alone. Was Gordon still here? If so, she could explain her comments on the report she’d reviewed.

Rounding the corner to Gordon’s office, her mouth open to say hello, TJ stopped and stared at the empty room. Should she add hearing things to her list of hallucinations? Pressing her ear to Malone’s door, she listened for any signs of a late meeting with the congresswoman. No sounds penetrated the wooden door to the office.

The hairs on the back of TJ’s neck rose to attention and she had the uncanny sense of being watched. With more haste than care, she tossed the envelopes into Gordon’s in-box and turned to leave, a chill snaking its way down her spine. She took a step and stopped. Was that the sound of a door? The one leading to the hallway? “Hello? Is anyone in here?” No one answered.

A distinct click sounded from the outer office area. Had she left the door open and it had swung closed behind her? Her breath caught in her throat as she made her way back through the offices to the hallway. The door that she’d left open a moment before was now closed.

Creepy. TJ jerked the door open and stepped out into the hallway and breathed a sigh, chastising herself for letting her imagination get the better of her.

Then she saw him.

A man hurried down the hallway toward the exit.

What the hell? Had he been in Malone’s office snooping around? Should she call the Capitol Police and have him stopped? What if she was wrong and the man was rushing to meet his family for dinner?

TJ’s feet moved in the direction the man had gone. Maybe she’d follow him just to see who it was. What could that hurt? If he had been snooping, at least she might be able to give more of a description than the back of a man’s shadowy head.

The man disappeared around a corner.

Now, she could run and he wouldn’t know she was chasing after him. TJ slipped out of her shoes, clutched them in her hands and ran down the hall as fast as she could in her confining skirt and bare feet. When she neared the corner, she slowed and peered around.

The man had disappeared. How could she describe him if she didn’t actually see his face? If she didn’t hurry, he’d make the parking garage and escape before she had a chance to identify him.

Why she should be so fixated, she didn’t stop to question. Perhaps her earlier Sean “sightings” were making her punchy. Determined to catch up to the unidentified man, she hitched up her skirt and lit out at a jog, rounding the next corner at a flat-out run.

A hand reached out and snagged her arm, jerking her back against a solid wall of muscle. Another hand clamped over her mouth, muffling the scream rising in her throat. Her shoes slipped from her hands, dropping to the floor.

Instinct kicked in and she bit the hand, stomped on the man’s instep and cocked her elbow to jab into his gut.

At that moment, a voice penetrated her fog of panic.

“Damn it. Stop fighting me and I’ll let you go.” That voice. The same voice she’d heard earlier today coming out of Malone’s office. Her body froze, her skin tingling all over.

The hand over her mouth loosened. “Are you going to scream?”

TJ shook her head. She couldn’t scream if all the air had left her lungs. Hell, she couldn’t breathe.

He dropped his hand and slowly turned her to face him. “Why were you chasing me?”

All the blood drained from TJ’s face and the man’s image swam in her vision like an apparition floating through a cloud. When her knees buckled, she staggered backward until her back hit the wall. “Sean?”




Chapter Four


Sean gripped TJ’s arms to keep her from falling. Her face blanched and her eyes widened. Her knees shook as if she was about to drop to the floor in a dead faint, or so he told himself as he pulled her against his chest.

The scent of spring flowers wafted beneath his nose, sending him back to Dindi and the hotel suite he’d shared with this beautiful woman. For a long moment he allowed the good memories to wash over him. He wanted to continue holding her close until he recaptured that feeling of belonging he’d only experienced with her in that faraway room. But the good feelings were chased away by bad memories. The blinding flash of the explosion and the resulting blackness filled his mind.

Marty was dead. Sean had only sustained minor injuries—cuts, scrapes, ruptured eardrums and a mild concussion. He’d survived. Marty hadn’t.

With cold determination, he set TJ at arm’s length and stepped away. Somehow, he had to get through this mission without letting this woman distract him again. Detecting movement to his left, he painted a confused but friendly expression on his face. “Why were you following me? Do I know you?” He bent to retrieve her shoes and handed them to her.

As she slipped them on, her skin went from white to red in a manner of seconds. “Do I—”

The night-duty Capitol Police guard chose that moment to walk by. “Good evening, Ms. Barton.” The guard gave Sean a wary look. “Everything okay here?”

TJ pushed a hand through her shoulder-length hair and gave a shaky laugh. “Oh, hi, Joe. Yes, yes, of course.” When the guard turned away from her, TJ glared at Sean.

“If you’re sure…” Joe didn’t act as if he wanted to leave.

“No, really, Joe,” TJ said. “We were just discussing work, weren’t we?”

Sean nodded, gauging TJ’s words and anticipating her next with some trepidation. “Yes, sir.”

“You new around here?” Joe asked.

“Started today in Congresswoman Malone’s office.” Sean stuck out his hand. “John Newman.”

A soft snort sounded beside him.

As the guard took his extended hand, Sean could feel the heat of TJ’s glare burning into his back. She could blow his cover if she wanted and she was mad enough to do it. He hoped she wouldn’t.

“John Newman,” the guard repeated. “Nice to meet you.” He glanced again at TJ. “If you’re sure you’re okay, I’ll be on my way. Still have my rounds to complete.”

“I’m perfectly fine.” Her brows rose. “And so is Se—John. He’s perfectly fine.” Her lips thinned for a moment before she graced the guard with a dazzling, albeit fake, smile. “Thanks for your concern. It’s nice to know some people still care.”

Joe walked away, glancing back once before he rounded the corner.

TJ clamped her mouth shut and crossed her arms over her chest, watching Sean until the guard’s footsteps receded.

Sean didn’t like pretending with TJ, but he had to maintain his cover. He’d practiced the lies he’d tell her half a dozen times, knowing it was only a matter of time before she discovered he was there.

After the policeman moved on, TJ grabbed Sean’s arm and ushered him, none too gently, down the long hallway back to her empty office.

Sean assumed a casual, natural look in case someone was watching. Surely legislative assistants dragged the new guys down the halls at some point during the day. He didn’t want to cause a scene or draw attention. His job was to blend in.

When she shoved him into her office and slammed the door behind him, her cheeks blazed with twin flags of color. She paced across the room and turned to face him. “I want answers and I want them now.”

He took a deep breath, wondering how much to tell her. “I’m sorry I didn’t acknowledge you in the hallway. I didn’t want to draw a lot of attention.”

“From whom? The place is practically deserted.” She raised her eyebrows, her toe tapping on the floor. “Who are you really? Sean McNeal or John Newman?”

The story he’d concocted froze on his lips. He’d never had trouble lying to maintain his cover, until he’d met TJ. He swallowed hard and forced the lie out. “John Newman.”

“And who is Sean McNeal? Just a name you made up to get me in bed in Dindi?”

He hated doing it, but he’d rather look the bastard than blow his cover and place himself, and possibly her, in danger. “That’s right. I didn’t want any complications after I left Dindi.”

“Complications.” For a moment her face paled again, then darkened into a ruddy red. A muscle ticked in her jaw for several long seconds. Then she shook her head. “I’m not buying it. Tell me what you’re really up to or I’ll call Joe back here and have you arrested.”

Not sure whether or not she was bluffing, Sean’s eyes narrowed. “On what charges?”

“Spying.” Her own eyes widened and a gasp escaped her lips. “For all I know, you could have been the one to bomb the embassy.”

Sean had known she wouldn’t take his reappearance well, but this encounter wasn’t going the way he’d rehearsed. If he didn’t level with her, she could blow his cover. Question was: could he trust her? He stared long and hard at her. Hell, he’d have to. “TJ, I’m working undercover.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean? Are you with the CIA or something?”

“Something like that. I can’t tell you everything, but I need everyone to think I’m just staff assistant John Newman.”

“Are you working the Dindi case?”

“Yeah.” He closed the distance between them and lifted her hands in his. “Look, I know this is hard to understand—”

“You have no idea.” She jerked her hands free and crossed her arms over her chest. “One minute I’m making love to a man I thought I knew. The next, I’m told he died in an explosion.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“Why should I believe you, now? How do I know you didn’t orchestrate that explosion? Give me one good reason I shouldn’t turn you into the police or FBI?”

Sean’s arms crossed over his chest. “If that’s what you think you need to do, go ahead.”

Her wide eyes narrowed, but she didn’t move for the phone. “Damn you! I don’t know what to believe.”

“I can’t tell you any more than I’m undercover and need you to keep quiet.”

When he reached out again, she backed away. “Don’t touch me.”

What did he expect? He’d left her alone in a foreign country thinking he was dead. After being away from her for a month, did he think she’d be happy to see him?

The spark in her eyes faded and the starch went out of her stance. “Tell me this. Were you working a case in Dindi?”

“Yes.” His response revealed none of the emotion he felt, none of the regret, none of the memories. He couldn’t afford to let them show.

Her eyes swam with tears and she whispered, “Was that all it was to you?”

Here’s the part where he could say she meant more to him than just the case. The part where he could say he’d fallen for her and had begun to think of a more permanent relationship. The tears welling in her eyes almost had him spilling his feelings like a rookie.

Remember Marty. The silence stretched one, two, three seconds before he responded. “Yes, I was working a case.” Better let her think he was a bastard. It made things easier.

She sucked in a breath and held it before she let it out slowly. “Thank you. At least I know exactly where we stand.”

Where did they stand? Sean had a good idea, and it didn’t involve happily-ever-after.

“You say you weren’t responsible for the bombing in Dindi.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, then her hand dropped to her side, her gaze leveling on him. “Why should I trust you? You’ve lied to me from the start, even faked your own death. You still haven’t given me a good reason not to turn you in.”

Sean welcomed her anger, the color rising in her cheeks and the fire in her eyes. He could handle it better than her tears. “I’m here to find out who’s behind the bombing in Dindi.”

“Here? Why didn’t you find the terrorist in Dindi?”

“I found one of them and what I found there led me back here.”

TJ sucked in a breath. “Here? In the Rayburn Building?” Her head moved from side to side.

“That’s what it looks like.” He stepped forward and reached for her hands, catching himself before he actually touched her. His hands fell to his sides. “We need to find all those responsible.”

“I lost my boss and a couple of friends in that bombing.” She looked as if she was going to add to that, but she clamped her lips shut and wrapped her arms around her midsection.

“I lost a good friend.” Sean shoved a hand through his hair and stared at her. “That’s why I’m here.”

Her brow knitted in a frown. “You think someone in the Rayburn Building was responsible? A member or staffer?”

“Maybe. That’s what I hope to find out.”

“That would explain why the CIA were crawling all over Crane’s office earlier today.”

Sean nodded.

TJ’s eyes narrowed again. “And in the meantime, I don’t suppose you plan to keep me in the picture? No updates on your progress?”

He shook his head. “Knowing too much and snooping around could be dangerous.”

“Bull. Like Dindi wasn’t dangerous?”

“No kidding, TJ. Whoever funded that could be here and, who knows, might plan another incident.”

“And you want me to just stand by and watch it happen?” She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right.”

He stared down into her eyes. “TJ, I need you to stay out of it. Don’t ask questions.” He didn’t have time to monitor her efforts. He had to remain focused on the goal.

“How do you plan on finding this person? You don’t even know anyone here.”

“For starters, I need you to play dumb about knowing me.”

“I don’t have to play dumb. I never knew you.”

That hurt, but Sean pushed on. “Do I have your promise to keep my identity to yourself?”

She hesitated. “I don’t feel right about it. You could be the bad guy.”

“Do you really think that?” He reached out and captured her hands, drawing her closer. “Do you really think I could bomb an embassy?” Staring down into her face, he could have fallen into those liquid brown eyes and forgotten what he was all about. But he needed her promise.

She didn’t meet his eyes, her gaze falling short to somewhere around his mouth. Her tongue darted out and slid across her bottom lip. “I don’t know.”

“Trust me, TJ,” he whispered, his mouth drawn to hers. When his lips claimed hers, he forgot his original question, forgot why he was here. All thought focused on kissing TJ Barton as though yesterday and tomorrow didn’t exist.

Pulling back cost him, but eventually he did. “Do I have your promise?”

Brown eyes gazed up at him, glazed and unfocused. Then she stepped out of his arms and ran her hands over her skirt; bright spots of red highlighted her cheekbones. “I’ll keep your secret for now. But, if I find you doing anything funny, I’ll sic every cop in the Capitol complex on your butt.”

“Define funny.”

“Wiring the place for bombs, holding anyone hostage, you know, the usual terrorist activities.”

He held up his hand. “I promise, no funny stuff.”

“And one other thing…”

This one was going to be big if her pause was any indication. Sean breathed in, then out. “Okay, shoot.”

“Promise me you won’t kiss me again.”



AFTER SEAN LEFT, TJ collapsed in the chair behind her desk and stared at the closed door.

What the hell? Her head spun and her gut ached as if she’d been sucker punched. Sucker was the word for it. She’d spent the last four weeks mourning the death of a man who never died. Had she really fallen in love with a man she’d known only two weeks? A man she hadn’t known at all?

If only she’d known he hadn’t died.

While she’d tossed, turned and barely slept from the nightmares, the louse had been alive. She smacked her palm on the desktop.

“Should I come back later?” Gordon Harris stood in the doorway, his brows high on his forehead.

TJ had been so deep in her thoughts, she hadn’t heard the door open. “No, no, come in.” She waved him in. She’d be damned if Sean McNeal got another minute of her thoughts. “What are you doing here so late?”

“I should ask you the same question.” He dug in his briefcase and pulled out a stack of papers. “I forgot to leave the Budget Committee report and Representative Crane’s changes to the speech for the Daughters of the American Revolution. Had to cut my dinner short when Malone called to remind me.” He hesitated. “But if you’d rather wait, I could come back tomorrow when you don’t look like you’re going to bite my head off.”

“I won’t bite your head off. Let me see those.” She held out her hand, her fingers wiggling impatiently.

“Okay, okay. Give me a second to get organized.” As Gordon riffled through the stack of papers, Sean walked by the door behind him.

The way her pulse quickened brought back memories of the first time she’d met Sean when she’d been scouting Conbanau prior to Congressman Haddock’s visit.

Oh, how gullible she’d been. Was that what she was now?

So much for not giving the man another moment of her thoughts. He was in the same building. She couldn’t ignore him. Hell, she felt compelled to keep an eye on him to make sure she wasn’t harboring a criminal.

Gordon followed her gaze, turning to see what she was staring at.

He laid the papers in her in-box and straightened. “What’s up with you?”

Her brain wasn’t engaged in Gordon’s words and she shook her head to clear her thoughts. “Huh?”

“I said, what’s up with you?”

“Nothing.” A ghost just came to life and I’m supposed to pretend he didn’t. Other than that, nothing. What bothered her more was that kiss. If only he hadn’t kissed her. Her lips still tingled from the contact. That spark was still there, damn it! He was a liar and a fake. She shouldn’t have any other feelings than contempt for the man calling himself John Newman. Anger boiled within. Not so much at Sean, but at herself for falling right back into his charade.

“Are you still hurting over the guy that died in the bombing? Let me take you to dinner and we can talk about it.”

The blond-haired, blue-eyed, boy-next-door good looks appealed to every other intern or single staffer on the floor. But not TJ. Unfortunately, she leaned toward black hair and green eyes. And she didn’t have time to lean. A killer possibly lurked in the halls of the Rayburn Building. Scarier still, the killer could be Sean McNeal, aka John Newman. She should be searching for clues. “You know how I feel about dating coworkers, Gordon.” In the meantime, she had to pretend to live her life as an ordinary legislative assistant. She laid a hand over his and softened her expression. “The offer is tempting, but…no.”

Gordon’s brows drew together and he covered her hand. “You can’t give up on all men just because of one, TJ.”

“Who said I was giving up?” Slipping her hands free, she pushed her chair away from her desk and stood, moving to the far corner of the room, out of reach. “Gordon, did you ever think the Dindi bombing might have been someone other than a terrorist?”

He leaned against her desk and crossed his arms over his chest. “Why do you ask?”

Sean’s words had been worrying her. That, on top of the information her CIA connections had unearthed. Could that American be in this building? “Just for the sake of conjecture, what if someone wanted it to look like a terrorist job? Who would want Congressman Haddock dead and why?”

Gordon blew out a stream of air. “Wow, I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Surely, Haddock had enemies,” she pressed.

Gordon shrugged. “Every representative has their share of dissatisfied constituents and competitors.”

“Why would someone want Haddock dead though?”

“Could be a number of reasons.”

TJ leaned against the wall. “Name some.”

“His pro-choice views on abortion for one. There’s always someone willing to bomb an abortion clinic. I guess they could target a congressman against the pro-life movement.”

“Maybe. But why bomb an embassy in a foreign country when they blow up abortion clinics in the States? What else?”

“If it were an election year, I’d say a worried opponent facing a loss at the polls. But the election’s not for another thirteen months.”

“No, election year isn’t right.” TJ paced the length of the office and back. “What about the committees he’s on? Is there anyone vehemently opposed to his decisions?”

“No more than usual.” Gordon rubbed his chin and stared at the ceiling in the far corner of the office. “He was in Africa working on securing the Millennium Challenge funding for the Dindi government. Maybe someone didn’t want him to get that funding.” His gaze moved to hers. “You think someone around here had it in for Haddock? If it was the MC funding, they could go after Malone. She’s backing Dindi like Haddock did.”

“No, I’m sure it’s nothing. No use getting Malone all worried.” TJ didn’t want to alarm Gordon or anyone else in the building because she’d had a wild thought and a small piece of unsubstantiated evidence. “I keep thinking about when that building exploded. It’s still all a blur to me. I was outside the building when the bomb went off. What if I saw something that could help identify the killer?”

Gordon’s brows rose high on his forehead. “Did you see something?”

“Not that I can remember. That’s just it. From the moment I stepped on the embassy grounds to the time I woke in the hospital is all a big black hole.”

“Have you thought about a hypnotist?” Gordon’s eyes narrowed and he stared hard at her. “You should try that.”

She shrugged. “It’s probably nothing. Besides, it’s been a month.”

“Then why’d you bring it up?”

“I keep having dreams about it. The whole thing replays in my head and I feel like I’m missing something.” At least Gordon had given her some ideas to pursue. TJ stood. “I left some documents with one of Crane’s legislative assistants. I need to collect them before I head home.”

“What about the report and the speech?”

“Leave them here on my desk. I’m not done for the night. Thanks for listening.” TJ stepped into the hallway and almost ran into Congresswoman Malone and Congressman Crane.

The congresswoman was dressed in a simple black cocktail dress. Crane wore the same suit he’d had on earlier that day.

“Oh there you are, Gordon. Glad you could come back in on such short notice.” Malone nodded briefly at TJ. “Are you headed home, Ms. Barton?”

“In a little while. It’s been a long night.” TJ smiled at Congressman Crane. “Do you need anything before I leave?”

“No, thank you. I’m just collecting a report from my office before I head home myself.”

“Then you two have a good evening.” Malone moved down the hallway dictating a list of tasks for Gordon to accomplish.

Did the woman never know when to quit? She often worked Gordon late into the evenings. Haddock had had his occasional late night, but not as often as Malone.

Crane’s gaze followed Malone and Gordon. “Couldn’t help overhearing your conversation with Harris. You still thinking about the bombing?”

TJ nodded and fell in step with the congressman, entering his suite of offices. “The dreams haven’t gone away. I keep thinking I could have seen someone and I can’t make the memory surface.”

“You could be suffering post-traumatic stress syndrome. Have you considered seeing a psychiatrist?”

“Not yet.” Between Crane and Gordon, they’d have her going to every shrink in D.C. for her “problem.”

“Don’t wait until you can’t think straight.” He unlocked his office door. “Have a good evening.”

“Good night, sir.” TJ collected her documents and walked away shaking her head. Crane giving her advice wasn’t something she’d expected out of this evening.

Thirty minutes later, she climbed into her compact car and drove out of the parking garage. On the short drive to her apartment, she had all the quiet she could stand with thoughts of Sean resurfacing at every corner.

Who would have wanted Congressman Haddock dead and why? If they wanted to stop the Millennium Challenge funding, the bombing hadn’t accomplished that. Congresswoman Ann Malone had taken up the fight to get that money approved. Sean hadn’t said anything about other attempts, but could Malone be next?

As TJ slowed to round a corner leading to her street, she noticed another set of headlights behind her on the deserted street. Hadn’t she seen those same headlights for the past two turns she’d made on her way home?

She drove past her apartment complex and turned down another road, just to be sure.

Two blocks sped by and the headlights appeared in her rearview mirror.

TJ’s stomach clenched. Someone was following her. Could it be Sean? Did she want to stop and ask? Hell no.

Pressing her foot to the accelerator, she raced to the next street and turned left without slowing or signaling. Once around the corner, she searched for a side street and darted down one with cars parked along the side. Cutting her headlights, she downshifted to slow her car without using the breaks, sliding into a spot behind another car against the curb. Before the headlights appeared, she’d killed the engine.

She ducked low in her seat and waited. Less than a minute went by and the headlights moved slowly along the other street, passing the one she’d turned on.

Even after the car passed, TJ remained where she was, her heart pounding in her ears. How long should she wait? Was she being paranoid?

Headlights appeared at the end of the street in front of her and TJ’s heart skipped a beat. Crud. Maybe she wasn’t just paranoid. Maybe someone was following her.

TJ sank lower in her seat as the car drifted by. Unable to see over the top of the dash or the side of the door, she held her breath as the sound of an automobile engine passed. It did pass, and shortly after, TJ eased her head up. The car was gone and the street was empty of any oncoming traffic.

Turning the key in the ignition, TJ almost had a heart attack when the little car wouldn’t start. On a second twist of the key, the engine sprang to life. The rest of her trip to her apartment remained blessedly uneventful.

Outside her apartment door, her hands shook as she jammed the key into the lock. She’d glanced over her shoulder at least ten times before her apartment door opened, expecting the eerie headlights to reappear on the street or a bogeyman to jump out of the bushes at any minute.

Once inside, she slammed her door shut and slid the bolt home. That wasn’t enough. A quick trip through the two bedrooms, kitchen and living space finally set her mind at ease. No one had come into her apartment while she’d been at work. A quick glance out the darkened windows confirmed no one lurked in the street.

A shaky laugh escaped her and she collapsed onto the couch, dropping her head into her hands. Sean’s reappearance had shaken her more than she cared to admit.

She forced a laugh, then almost choked on it when headlights shone through the filmy curtains of her living-room window. A car cruised by on her street like a snake sliding through the grass in search of its next meal.




Chapter Five


“Learning anything?” Royce stopped by Sean’s desk shortly after midnight.

“Don’t you ever go home?” Sean asked.

“Since home is upstairs, I’m always at home.”

“Let me rephrase. Don’t you ever leave the office?”

Royce shrugged. “Slow television night.” Sean knew Royce used to have a family. A wife and a son. The wife died in an auto accident and the son disappeared his second year at Georgetown University. With no one expecting him, he didn’t really have a home to go to.

Sean understood not having a home or someone awaiting his return. For a short time he’d dreamed of TJ filling that role.

“Anyone else working?” Royce glanced over the tops of the cubicles the agents used when they worked in the office. Mostly, they operated in the field.

“The last time I checked, Tim was back in his corner hacking away at the bank account the CIA traced to the terrorist in Dindi.”

“Any leads?”

“Not yet.” So far, Tim hadn’t been able to get past the bank’s firewall. Even when they did break in, the chances of the account pointing to an individual were slim, which meant additional digging into shell corporations.

“What about the legislative assistant who was with Haddock in Dindi, TJ Barton? Have you run into her? Any chance of getting close to her?”

Sean stiffened. At one time they’d been close. But that wasn’t what Royce meant. “Yes, I’ve run into her. She’s in Haddock’s old office, two doors down from mine.” He hadn’t told Royce anything about his previous life with TJ.

“Did she recognize you?”

“Yes. I had to tell her I was working undercover.”

“Couldn’t lie your way out of it?”

Sean shook his head. “No, she’s former FBI and too smart for the lies.” He hadn’t told Royce why TJ had been the only one of her party who’d escaped injury.

“You look like a man with a lot on his mind.” Royce dropped into the chair beside Sean’s desk. “If it has anything to do with this case, spill it.”

Royce gave him the opening. Why did he find it so difficult to talk about what happened between him and TJ? He’d misplaced his focus in Dindi, he didn’t want to risk losing this assignment because Royce lost faith in his objectivity. Honesty won out. “There’s something you ought to know about what happened in Dindi.”

“You mean more than what you’ve already told me?”

“Yeah.” He hesitated. How did he tell Royce he’d fallen for a stranger in less than two weeks? Hell, in less than two hours. He’d traveled all over the world with the Army Special Forces and then again with S.O.S. And in a small country in Africa, he’d found TJ. What were the odds?

“Is this about the affair you had with Haddock’s assistant?” Royce asked.

Sean’s gaze snapped to Royce. “How did you know?”

A sad smile tipped the corners of the older man’s mouth. “Marty told me about her the morning he died.” Royce’s lips tightened into a thin line. “He was glad to see you falling hard after all the ribbing you gave him about marrying Kat.”

Sean nodded, remembering. “I did give him hell. Felt like I was losing my best friend.”

Royce stared at a snapshot hanging on the wall of Sean, Marty and Kat on mountain bikes in the North Carolina hills. “You didn’t lose a brother in Marty, you gained a sister in Kat.”

“I did lose him in the end.”

“And you’re blaming your relationship with the Barton woman on it, aren’t you?”

Sean pounded his fist on the desk. “Yes.” He rolled back from his desk and stood. “If I hadn’t been playing around—”

“You’d be dead, too.” Royce stood. “Not only would Kat have lost her husband, she’d have lost her friend. You’ve been the only one keeping her from falling apart. None of us are as close to her as you are. She needs you. Face it. You weren’t meant to die.” Royce laid a hand on his shoulder. “It wasn’t your time.”

“And it was Marty’s?” He shook loose of Royce’s hand, anger burning a hole in his gut.

“Yes, damn it.” Royce crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t get me wrong, I cared for Marty as much as anyone, and I never wished bad things to happen, but his number was up.” With his feet braced apart and his eyes blazing, Royce had only just begun his tirade. “You didn’t die in that attack for a reason. And that reason was to find out what really happened. Are you going to pull your head out of feeling sorry for yourself long enough to accomplish your mission? Or do I need to find a replacement with a better perspective?”

Hands clenched into fists. Sean wanted to strike out, hit someone. The anger he’d fed off for the past month boiled up and threatened to overflow into action. Royce’s words struck him like a blow and he wanted to hit back. But Royce Fontaine was his friend, not the enemy. Not the person responsible for the deaths of Congressman Haddock, Marty Sikes and many others. Someone else had ordered that attack.

“Are you on the case?” Royce asked.

Sean straightened his shoulders, drawing on his years of military service and ability to work under extreme pressure. “I’m on.”

“Then stop beating yourself up.”

Sean’s jaw clenched. “Is that an order, boss?”

“Damn right. And get in tight with Barton. She might be able to get into places you won’t have access to as temporary staff.”

He should have seen it coming, but Royce was a pro at manipulating the best of them. Sean hated that he’d been gullible enough to fall for Royce’s technique. “Sneaky bastard.”

Royce’s brows rose. “We do whatever it takes.”

Meaning Sean had to get in with TJ or any other staff member in order to determine who the hell backed that bombing. “Okay, I’ll work with TJ.” But he would not fall for her again or lose his perspective.

Sean’s boss gave him a slap on the back. “Thought you’d see it my way.”

Royce may think he had it all sewn up, but Sean knew TJ Barton wasn’t a pushover. She might see things in an entirely different light. So much for keeping his distance from the one woman who could blow his cover. “I hope she sees it your way, too.”

“That’s where you turn on the McNeal charm.”

It would take a lot more than charm to get under TJ Barton’s defenses after Dindi.

A whoop went up from the computer lab.

Royce turned and stepped out into the hallway. “Let’s go see what Tim found.”



AT EIGHT O’CLOCK the following morning, TJ had already been at work for two hours. Just because they’d lost Congressman Haddock didn’t mean the work went away. He hadn’t been the only official lost in the bombing. They’d also lost Bryce Chumley, the legislative director, and Monique Tyler, Haddock’s executive assistant. Additional duties of their lost comrades were divvied out to the remaining already overloaded staff. The projects everyone had been working transferred to other congressmen within the party for oversight.

So, why waste time pretending to sleep when there was more work to be done than this one legislative assistant could accomplish? With testimonies to read, reports to write and condense, documents to file and recommendations to make, sleep became a highly overrated commodity.

Who was she trying to kid? She hadn’t slept all night because every time she closed her eyes, she saw headlights beaming in her rearview mirror. If not the headlights, Sean McNeal stared at her from the pile of rubble standing where the American embassy had been. She thought she’d had nightmares before Sean rose from the dead. His revelation about the bombing possibly originating from the Rayburn Building had her alternating between scared and angry all night long.

The carpet next to her bed lay flat with the amount of pacing she’d done into the wee hours. And the more she paced, the madder she steamed. Her anger stemmed from the so-called American who had killed other Americans. She also couldn’t deny her anger at Sean McNeal for letting her mourn his death when all along he’d been alive and well. If Sean had stepped into her apartment last night, she couldn’t have been held responsible for her actions.

The secret inner part of her finally won out and rejoiced that he hadn’t in fact died. After all the grief, her heart lightened for the first time in the weeks since her return. But that didn’t excuse him for leading her to believe he was dead. She still wanted to give back a little of the anguish he’d caused her. Her anger spiked higher when she considered revenge on a live Sean McNeal when she should be more concerned about a killer running loose in the halls of the Rayburn Building.

Who could it be?

A knock sounded at her door and TJ’s heart thudded against her chest. Instead of wading through the stacks of documents awaiting her attention, she’d been reviewing her own list of possible suspects and wondering which ones Sean had already checked out.





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