“Sleep. We’re going to need our rest.”

She glanced over at the narrow double bed—it was going to be a tight fit.

She crawled under the covers and he stretched out beside her.

“Come here,” he murmured.

“Excuse me?”

He held out an arm to her. “This is only going to work if we spoon.”

Spoon? With him? He’d rolled on his side and waited for her expectantly. “Scoot back against me,” he ordered.

In a second, she was snuggled up against Jim Kelley and he was holding her close to his hot, hard body, his breath warm in her hair. And she was supposed to sleep like this?

“Nice,” he murmured. “I never knew what great shape you’re in. Do you do anything besides kickbox and run?”

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. “I hear vigorous sex is a great aerobic workout.”

Dear Reader,

It’s always a ton of fun to work on series like the Kelleys of Maple Cove with a group of my fellow authors. But I have to say, this bunch has been a particular joy to work with. Through all our laughter and sorrows—sometimes eerily similar to those we write about—the bonds of sisterhood proved to be especially strong.

Often the creative process is a lonely one, but the other five spectacular authors in this series—Marie Ferrarella, Beth Cornelison, Gail Barrett, Carla Cassidy and Elle Kennedy— have reached across the miles separating our desks to touch my heart with their stories and support. Hopefully, the six of us have done the same for you, too, dear reader.

And with that, it’s my great pleasure to present to you the final installment in the chapter of the Kelley clan’s ongoing chronicles. Here’s hoping you have as much fun reading it as all of us did writing it!

Warmly,

Cindy Dees

About the Author

CINDY DEES started flying airplanes while sitting in her dad’s lap at the age of three and got a pilot’s license before she got a driver’s license. At age fifteen, she dropped out of high school and left the horse farm in Michigan where she grew up to attend the University of Michigan. After earning a degree in Russian and East European Studies, she joined the US Air Force and became the youngest female pilot in its history. She flew supersonic jets, VIP airlift and the C-5 Galaxy, the world’s largest airplane. During her military career, she traveled to forty countries on five continents, was detained by the KGB and East German secret police, got shot at, flew in the first Gulf War and amassed a lifetime’s worth of war stories.

Her hobbies include medieval re-enacting, professional Middle Eastern dancing and Japanese gardening.

This RITA® Award-winning author’s first book was published in 2002 and since then she has published more than twenty-five bestselling and award-winning novels. She loves to hear from readers and can be contacted at www.cindydees.com.

Captain’s Call of Duty

Cindy Dees

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is for my wonderful collaborators—

Marie, Beth, Gail, Carla, and Elle.

May the Muse continue to grace you all.

Chapter 1

“Next one of you boys who makes a comment about any of my girl parts,” Alexandra Mendez declared, “I’m gonna have to hurt you. Bad.” Sheesh. Wear one lousy skirt to the office—and not even a sexy one at that—and the guys went crazy. Pervs.

One of the several dozen soldiers clustered in the ready room passed behind her and flipped her brunette ponytail. “Hell, Mendez. I didn’t even know you had girl parts.”

The old hurt speared into her, sharp and bright. He didn’t know. None of them knew how much she hated being “one of the guys.” Desperate choices … made young … to save her father …

She scowled at no one in particular. “Anyone see Captain Kelley? I need to talk to him.”

A predictable chorus of cat calls and rude remarks erupted. She was so not sleeping with Jim Kelley. But it didn’t help the rumor mill that he hovered over her as though she was some kind of freaking moron every time anyone in the unit gave her a job to do. Which wasn’t to say she wouldn’t seriously consider sleeping with Jim if he offered. She’d had a massive crush on him for pretty much her whole life.

She rolled her eyes and announced to the room at large, “I swear, you’ll never see it coming. A knife between the ribs, nice and quiet.”

Laughter broke out. “You and what army?” someone called.

She shook her head and didn’t rise to the bait. These Special Forces types thought they were such hot stuff. Nothing and nobody could touch them. Problem was, they were right about that most of the time. Just once, she’d like to give them a taste of their own medicine.

“Captain’s in the colonel’s office,” someone finally relented and volunteered. “Secure fax came in a few minutes ago.”

Ahh. A mission was coming down to the unit. No wonder everyone was hanging around trying to look busy. They were all here to wrangle a spot on whatever team was about to get sent out.

She clenched her jaw. She’d give her right arm and her firstborn child to be sent out in the field just once. Other tech-support types went out to back up the teams all the time. But not her. Never her. Maybe this time—

The colonel’s office door opened and the atmosphere in the room went from jovial to supercharged in about a nanosecond. Captain Jim Kelley stepped out. “Delta Company,” he announced, “you’re up.”

Cheers—from Delta’s guys—and groans from everyone else rose loudly. Over the din, Jim yelled, “Intel briefing in the conference room. Ten minutes.”

Alex pushed through the mass of big, muscular bodies toward Jim. Ten minutes? Crud. She didn’t have much time to make her case. “Captain Kelley!” she called. He made eye contact with her over the shoulders of the non-Delta company commanders as they groused at him and tried to get a piece of the action.

“Mendez, you got a report for me?” Jim barked.

“Yes, sir.”

“My office. Now.”

He was clearly using her as an excuse to escape the sleevetuggers, but she was okay with that. He’d be her captive audience until the ready room cleared out.

He paused in his doorway and gestured for her to precede him inside. As always, her heart stuttered when she had any excuse to get this close to Jim Kelley and his rugged good looks. He was a man’s man … heck, he was a woman’s kind of man, too. Those blue-on-blue eyes of his, the thick, dark hair cropped short, the strong features, direct stare—

Without warning, her shoe heel caught on the doorjamb and her right ankle rolled out from under her. She pitched forward and slammed face first into her boss’s rock-solid chest.

“Hey, Mendez,” someone laughed behind her, “you don’t have to be that obvious about throwing yourself at the guy!” More laughter ensued.

Her cheeks flamed. Whoever said fair-skinned women were the only ones cursed with blushing when they were embarrassed had never met her. Her golden complexion turned beet-red with the best of them, thank you very much. Of course, she never really blushed except when she did something humiliating around Jim Kelley. And that happened a great deal more often than she liked to think about.

“Walk much?” he murmured, setting her back on her feet. “Maybe you should stick to flats, kid.”

Face on fire, she glared in the general direction of his chin and mumbled, “Yeah, whatever.” She was such a dork. She couldn’t even walk past the guy without falling all over herself.

“You need help getting to a chair?” he asked dryly.

She hoped that was a rhetorical question because she had no intention of answering him. She sat down on the cursed chair, and then remembered she was wearing a skirt. She should turn a little to angle her skirt away from him enough that she wasn’t inviting him to look up it.

She swiveled in the seat, but, of course, the danged skirt didn’t swivel with her. The stupid thing wrapped around her thighs so tightly she feared a seam would pop any second. She half rose to twist it back into place. But in trying to be subtle about it, she was a little too subtle and lost her balance. She fell back onto the chair, barely catching enough seat to stay in it and the thing rocked ominously to one side. She managed to right both herself and the chair, but not before Jim smirked openly at her from behind his desk.

“I swear, Al, I’ve never met anyone as clumsy as you in my whole life.”

She almost stuck her tongue out at him, but they weren’t kids any more. And besides, she was only a klutz around him.

The grin faded from his face and his stare went all manly again. “What’s up, Mendez?”

It might be common usage to call people by their last names in the army, but coming from him, it made her feel … ugly. Nerves jangled like broken power lines in her stomach. She asked as lightly as she could muster, “Where’s the team mission to this time?”

“Secretary of State’s going to East Africa to discuss the piracy problem with various leaders over there. We’re providing supplemental security.”

That was a particularly dangerous corner of the world. Delta Company stood a more-than-fair chance of seeing combat on the job. She announced, “I want to go with them.”

“So do I. But that doesn’t mean either of us gets to do it.”

“I’m serious. I’ve been attached to this unit for a full year and I haven’t been out on a single field op.”

“You’ve been on tons of ops,” he retorted.

“Sitting in a van a hundred miles from the deployment and babysitting satellite feeds is not a real op. I want to be where the action is.”

Jim’s expression hardened. “Not happening. You’re a rookie. You’re a female. And your dad would kill me if I let anything happen to you.”

She snapped, “Rookie techs go out in the field with the unit all the time. And you’ve sent a woman into a hot combat zone before—”

“Yeah, and look how that turned out.” His gaze strayed to the wall of photographs of fallen heroes under a banner declaring them never to be forgotten.

“—and as for my dad, I’m an adult and this is my job. He can get over it.”

“You’re inexperienced. I can’t risk my men’s lives with you. When you’ve got more field experience, maybe we’ll talk about it.”

He’d set up a neat catch-22 and snagged her squarely in its logic. She demanded, “And how, exactly, am I supposed to get more field experience if you won’t ever put me out there?”

Exasperation poured off the guy, but she, frankly, didn’t care. She was pretty darned exasperated herself.

“Do you have a report from Chandler’s office for me or not?” Jim asked implacably. He obviously thought the discussion about sending her to Africa was over.

“I’ll go over your head,” she threatened. “I can claim discrimination, you know.”

He leaned forward, palms pressed flat on his desk, and glared at her. “As long as you’re attached to this unit, you work for me. My decision. My call. I say you stay right where you are. It took my superiors a year to get someone into Senator Chandler’s office. And I’m not about to pull you out.”

Frustration and hurt warred for supremacy in her gut. She was really, really good at her job. Nobody was better with high-tech gadgetry than she was. She’d earned a chance to do her job for real in combat. He was just being pig-headed and chauvinistic. “If you don’t think I’m good enough at my job to let me do it, then why don’t you let me go back to my own battalion where my work will be appreciated?”

He momentarily looked stricken, but then he snarled, “If you do something intentional to make me fire you, you won’t be getting any jobs in tech ops again any time soon. I’ll see to it.”

She jumped to her feet and miraculously managed to get vertical without mishap. “How dare you threaten me!”

His jaw muscles worked angrily. “You threatened me first, Mendez, and I don’t take kindly to that.” His gaze speared into her coldly. “You have your orders. I expect you to stay put in Chandler’s office and keep watching for anything out of the ordinary. You’re going nowhere until you get the dirt on the guy. Is that understood?”

She was so furious she didn’t trust herself to speak aloud. She nodded stiffly before pivoting and marching to the door. At least she hoped it looked like marching. Disconcertingly, in the narrow skirt and heels, it felt more like mincing than marching. She gave his door a satisfyingly loud slam on the way out, though. Jerk.

He wanted the dirt on Chet Chandler, did he? Oh, she’d give him dirt. In fact, she knew just how to get it. She glanced at her watch. Almost five o’clock. Senator Chandler had a dinner meeting tonight with some caucus group. And whenever he left the office, the rest of the staff usually checked out pretty soon thereafter. She’d give it a couple of hours and then she’d move in for the kill.

Her idea was risky. Arguably stupid. If she got caught she’d be fired from Chandler’s staff for sure, and then Jim would be really mad at her. Tough. She was going to hack into Chet Chandler’s personal computer. And then in a few days, before next week’s no-notice system sweep by the FBI, she’d unhack the senator’s computer.

It had cost her hundreds of dollars’ worth of beers and countless hours of deadly, dull baseball talk with her “buddy” from the FBI cyber-crime unit to find out when the next sweep of the Congressional offices was scheduled. But it would all be worth it if she could show Jim Kelley just how good she really was at her job.

If he wouldn’t send her out on a real mission to get experience, she’d just create one for herself. Passive surveillance on one Senator Chet Chandler had just shifted into active pursuit mode.

Jim Kelley woke from a dead sleep to the sound of someone pounding on the front door of his stylish Georgetown town house. What time was it anyway? He lifted his head to look blearily at the alarm clock. Two in the morning? He swore under his breath as he rolled out of bed and pulled on sweat pants.

“I’m coming!” he yelled irritably at whoever was trying to bust down his door. He looked through the peephole and spied the distorted figure of a woman. A familiar one he emphatically didn’t want to see right now.

He threw the door open. “C’mon, Mendez. Do we have to get into this again? I said I’m not sending you to Africa. Get over it.”

“May I come in?” she ground out between clenched teeth.

“Are you drunk?”

“No!”

“Are you going to throw another tantrum at me?”

“God, that’s a sexist remark. Let me in. I got something on Chandler.”

Surprised, he stepped back. She brushed by him and he sucked in a sharp breath. She was wearing yoga pants and a muscle shirt that hugged her body quite informatively. It turned out that beneath the military uniforms and dull suits she normally wore, the girl had curves. And beneath the curves she was lean and fit. Who’d have guessed?

She glanced up at him sidelong and déjà vu slammed into him. Arturo used to look at him just like that. Same eyes. Same wry humor. It had been ten years since her older brother, his best friend, had died. Sometimes Alex was so much like Arturo it was spooky. And sometimes it was as though the accident had happened yesterday, the pain and guilt and loss as new and raw as ever.

“Nice place,” Alex blurted.

“Thanks.” Those stretchy pants cupped her derriere just right, and her T-shirt left bare a sexy little strip of golden flesh across her belly. Make that a flat, firm belly. And make that an intensely weird sensation to be noticing it.

“Must be nice not to have to live on army pay in this town.”

Couldn’t resist taking a pot shot at him, could she? Must still be pissed about this afternoon. He glanced around the chic living room and shrugged. It wasn’t his fault his mother was an heiress, or that he’d parlayed the trust fund he’d gotten when he turned eighteen into millions more by investing it wisely.

“It’s two in the morning, Mendez,” he said, hinting not so subtly for her to get to the point of this little visit.

She glared. “I’m well aware of that. I’ve been working all night while you caught up on your beauty sleep.”

Vague surprise registered. What work would keep her up so late? She was a junior flunky—little more than an errand girl—in Chandler’s office. Surely the guy didn’t give her work to do that kept her up this late at night. “Congratulations. You win the workaholic award,” he declared. “So what do you want?”

“Get dressed,” she ordered tersely. “There’s something I need to show you.”

His eyebrows shot up. Since when was she the one giving orders? He was the unit operations officer. She was the lowly support tech. Not to mention, why was she so tense? She’d come to his unit with a reputation for being cool as a cucumber under pressure. That and the girl was a wizard with anything that had wires. She would give James Bond’s tech support guy, Q, a run for his British money. Something must be up. Something big.

Frowning, he stood up. “I’ll be right back.”

“Wear something preppy!” she called after him.

Preppy? What the heck? Off-duty his tastes tended to jeans and cowboy boots. But he was curious enough to dig out a pair of tailored khaki slacks and a dark-green polo shirt. He rooted around in the back of his closet and found a pair of deck shoes, too. He occasionally sailed with friends in Annapolis, and the shoes actually were handy on a boat. In keeping with the preppy thing, he skipped socks and slipped his bare feet into the shoes.

When he came back to the living room, she was perched on the edge of his pearl-gray leather sofa warily eyeing his coffee table and the foot-tall crystal sculpture of a seagull in flight on it. The piece was one of a kind, but he restrained an urge to slide it out of her reach. He snorted at himself. Apparently, it was an ingrained habit not to insult a pretty woman at this time of night.

“What’s going on, Mendez?”

Her dark eyes flashed with something unnamed. He might call it fear if it wasn’t Mendez he was looking at. She didn’t have a fearful bone in her entire body.

She answered, “I found something on Senator Chandler’s computer. I could’ve brought you a copy of the file, but you wouldn’t have believed me if I did. I need you to see it for yourself on his computer, as big as life.”

If he hadn’t known her pretty much his whole life, he’d say she’d lost her marbles. But Alex never had been prone to hysteria and didn’t look as though she was about to start now. She looked … scared.

They stepped out into the sleeping Georgetown street. He glanced around for her piece-of-crap Buick and didn’t spot it. “Where’d you park?” he murmured.

“I took the subway.”

“The Beast on the fritz?”

She snorted at the idea that any car of hers wouldn’t be in perfect working order. Good point. Her old man was the finest mechanic on the planet, and she wasn’t far behind the guy in what she knew about cars.

“I’ll drive,” he announced. Not only did he prefer his zippy little BMW on the Washington streets, but he wanted fast access to the Luger 9 mm semi-automatic pistol in the glove compartment.

Traffic was nonexistent at this hour and they were downtown in a matter of minutes. Shocking. It could take Jim an hour or more to make that drive during rush hour. He even found a parking spot less than a block from the Dirksen Building, where Chandler’s office was.

“How are we planning to get in?” he asked.

“We’re walking in the front door. I told the guard when I left to come get you that I’d be back with someone to help me in a little while. He’s expecting you and will sign you in as a visitor,” she answered disdainfully.

“No spooky ops for you, huh?”

“Hey. If you want to break in, I can take you around back and rewire the service entrance. But it’ll take an hour and then we’ll have to dodge the roaming guards who, contrary to what you see on TV, are very good at their jobs.”

He shrugged. “Why make it hard if we can take the path of least resistance?”

“Like I was saying. The front door.”

Touchy, touchy. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her this tense. His curiosity grew even more. What had she found to make her this tight?

“Good evening, Miss Mendez,” a night guard at the front desk said. “I see you convinced your colleague to come in and help you.”

She sighed. “Senator Chandler’s freaking out over some testimony his committee’s hearing tomorrow. He made me dig up a Subject Matter Expert and drag the poor man down here to help me develop a list of questions. This is Captain Kelley, by the way.”

The guard was thorough … and slow. But eventually, the badge with a big red V on it was handed over. Jim clipped it to his collar.

Playing his part, Jim said, “All right, Miss Mendez. Let’s get to work. We don’t have long if this hearing starts at nine.”

She nodded and led him through the metal detectors to an elevator bank. They stepped inside and the door closed behind them. She stared fixedly at the doors as if she was uncomfortable being in a confined space with him.

“What’s going on, Al? I can’t remember the last time I saw you so wired.”

The door opened. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

She followed him down a long hallway to a walnut door with a brass panel on it announcing this to be the office of Chester V. Chandler, the junior senator from Nebraska. She swiped her badge and then keyed a number on the pad below the card reader. A green light beeped and she pushed open the door.

They stepped into a darkened room. She reached past him to turn on the lights. With a quick gasp to announce it, she managed to get her feet tangled up and he had to grab her fast to keep her from falling over. Typical Mendez. He bit back a grin at the sight of her cheeks reddening.

“Lock that door behind you,” she mumbled.

He did so and turned around. Alex had already disappeared into the next room. He followed her in time to see her sit down behind a big mahogany desk and open a laptop computer sitting on it. Interested to see what had her so freaked out, he moved around behind her to look over her shoulder.

It booted up and she rapidly typed in a long password comprised of random letters and numbers.

“Impressive,” he commented. “How long did it take you to hack that?”

“Chet gave me the password months ago.”

“Seriously?” That surprised him. If the guy had secrets to keep, why would he hand out his password to some junior aide?

“Whenever he has computer problems, I’m his go-to girl.” She added dryly, “Turns out I have a bit of a knack with electronics.”

“You’re kidding,” he retorted, matching her sarcasm. By the time she’d hit her teens, it had been clear she’d inherited her dad’s gift for gadgets. He’d never seen a mechanical device of any kind that could best either one of them. Of course, the army had spent years further training her natural talent until she was downright frightening.

“Here it is,” she announced as she clicked on a file icon. As it loaded, she stood up. “Sit down and take a look at this.”

He replaced her in the leather desk chair. An email message popped up on the screen.

The package has been taken. ETA final destination 6:00 a.m. local. Will report when contents have been secured and delivery confirmation sent.

“Mendez, have you lost it? Why do I care about some damned package?”

“Look at the date of the message,” she replied.

“The twentieth of August. Big deal.”

“Wasn’t that the day your sister was kidnapped?”

“Yeah. So?”

“Check out this note.” She leaned over his shoulder to click on another email stored in the same file, and he was startled to register that she smelled good. Like fresh-cut hay, sweet and warm.

Another note popped up.

Delivery confirmation received. Recipient has not responded, however. Request further instructions.

And then a third note.

We need you to lean on HK. Make him understand what will happen if he doesn’t play ball.

Disquiet started to rumble in Jim’s gut. His father, Hank Kelley, had initially kept Lana’s kidnapping secret from the rest of the family. Hank had refused to pay a ransom and had told the kidnappers he would never bend to blackmail. Still, these vague notes didn’t come close to constituting proof that Chet Chandler knew about his sister’s kidnapping.

But then Alex opened one last message. This one contained a video clip and took several seconds to load. A room came into view from the perspective of a camera mounted high in the corner looking down on the space. A woman sat in a chair in the middle of the room. Her ankles and wrists bore metal cuffs secured to the chair. And she was blindfolded. But Jim didn’t have to see her entire face to know it was Lana.

He leaped to his feet. “Sonofa—” he exclaimed. Senator Chet Chandler was involved in his sister’s kidnapping? He’d kill the guy. Or worse, expose him. He’d ruin the bastard. Nobody messed with his little sister and got away with it.

“Copy these files for me,” Jim ground out. “I’ll have them in front of a grand jury first thing in the morning.”

“You can’t,” Alex replied. “We don’t have a warrant to search this computer.”

“Then get one!”

“By the time we get a judge to sign off on one, Chandler would hear about it and erase these before we ever get here.”

“Make me a copy of the damned things anyway,” Jim growled. “Illegally obtained or not, I want the evidence on the slime ball. I will find a way to take him down.”

Without comment, Alex reached into her pocket for a flash drive. She plugged it into the side of the senator’s computer and reached over Jim’s shoulder to strike several keys. “Done.”

“What else has Chandler got on this system?” Jim demanded.

“I don’t—” She broke off as the outer office door beeped. “Get over on the couch,” she whispered. “Write something down on this, fast.” She threw him a yellow legal pad, slammed the screen on the laptop shut, and raced for the outer office door.

He heard her say pleasantly from the other room, “Hey, Parker. Mike said you’d stop by. How’s Marly?”

Impressed, Jim listened to her and the guard chat about the guy’s apparently about-to-have-a-baby wife. Man. Alex really was cool under pressure. The guard poked his head into the senator’s office and Jim looked up from his legal pad casually. He nodded at the guard, who nodded back.

In a few moments, the fellow left and Alex came back into the office. She picked up where they’d left off. “Here’s the thing,” she explained. “If I copy the entire contents of the senator’s hard drive, it’ll only give us a snapshot of what’s on the system this very minute. I’d rather have a way to track what he’s doing from day-to-day.”

“Can you do that?” Jim asked.

“I don’t have the gear with me to do it tonight, but I can get the stuff and plant a transmitter on his motherboard. But I’ll need to set up another computer somewhere nearby to act as the shadow system.”

“Shadow system?”

She nodded. “The second computer will act exactly like the first computer. We’ll see every keystroke the senator makes, every email he receives or sends, every file he opens, saves or deletes. Although, on our system, nothing will actually delete.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re scary, Mendez?”

She smiled wolfishly. “All the time.”

It was a quick matter to wipe down the senator’s desk for fingerprints and turn out the lights. But Jim was surprised when she left the outer office lights on and then led him away from the elevator bank they’d used to come upstairs.

“What’s up?” he murmured under his voice.

“We’re supposed to be pulling an all-nighter working on a set of questions. Unless you want to sit in the office the rest of night, I thought we’d use the back door.”

“But you said it would take an hour to get through its security.”

“From the outside. From inside the building it’s a two-minute job to disable the thing. Our only problems are Parker and the cleaning crew. I’ll take point.”

And just like that, she strode off down the hall, leaving him to follow behind. Memories of a dark, rocky valley flashed through his head. Another woman taking point. His misgivings about letting her do it, the rolled eyes of the other guys on the op, his determination to let her prove herself to the unit …

He shook his head and scowled at Alex’s attempt to play toy soldier. She didn’t get it at all. She had no idea how dangerous it was in the field and wasn’t the slightest bit equipped to handle it, physically or emotionally.

She surprised him by hand-signaling a retreat, Special Forces style. His many years of training kicked in and he obeyed, not questioning the order. He turned, raced down the hall they currently were in, and ducked into the next available side hall. She joined him a second later. They froze in the shadowed alcove, shoulder to shoulder, as a janitor rolled a cleaning cart past them. The guy never saw them. A door opened and the cart creaked inside.

Alex glided out to the main hallway, peeked around the corner, and signaled him to proceed. Amusement flared in his gut. She had all the moves, he’d grant her that. But nobody was shooting at them or hunting them with the intent to kill. And that made all the difference between a real field op and this little pretend game of hers. But who was he to puncture her balloon? He dutifully followed her to the service exit and stood lookout while she disabled the door alarm.

She hadn’t lied. In under two minutes they slipped out into the cool Washington night. He unclipped his badge and passed it to her to hand in to the security guard in the morning. They walked around the corner to his car. He drove away slowly enough not to draw any attention to himself; they were just another pair of weary staffers going home after burning the midnight oil.

But when they were safely a few blocks away, Jim pulled the car over and asked, “When can you have the senator’s computer bugged?”

“Noon tomorrow.”

“How so soon?” he demanded.

“I’ll send the senator a virus in an email. It’ll freeze up his system. He’ll panic and call me into his office to fix it. I’ll take apart the computer, wire the transmitter to the motherboard, and then erase the virus. No sweat.”

Ballsy, to plant a bug right under her boss’s nose. Jim nodded tersely. “I want to know everything. How involved is this guy in Lana’s kidnapping? Who’s he working with? Who did those emails come from? Particularly the one that told him to lean on my old man. If Chandler’s just a pawn in this thing, I want to know who the king is.”

“I’m going to need somewhere to set up the shadow computer. Somewhere close. Like an office or an apartment.”

“I’ll take care of it first thing in the morning,” he replied tersely.

“What about a search warrant for Chet’s computer?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No. You were right. We don’t want to spook Chandler. I’ll run the paperwork for your bug through military channels. The people who had me put you in Chandler’s office can green-light us. And they won’t leak anything.”

She glanced over at him sharply, but then looked away hastily. Why had she gone skittish on him all of a sudden? “What?” he demanded.

“Us?” she mumbled. “Are you coming on board my op, then?”

“This scumbucket can lead me to Lana’s kidnappers—or he might even be one of them. Hell, yes, I’m in.” He added grimly, “Call me when the bug’s in place.”

She nodded.

“You need a ride to your place?” he offered.

“It’s too far out of your way,” she protested.

“I’m wide awake and too pissed off at Chandler to go back to sleep any time soon.”

“Fine. Then head south on I-395 to the Beltway.”

He followed her directions to a nondescript apartment complex in suburban Virginia that looked like every other apartment complex around it. She reached for her door handle to jump out, and he stopped her with a hand on her left forearm.

“Hey, Al. Thanks. You did good tonight.”

She nodded and then all but fell out of his car. He grinned. That girl was a mess. He drove home thoughtfully. Why on earth was Chet Chandler mixed up in something as dangerous and potentially career-ending as kidnapping?

Jim’s gut said that Chet Chandler’s strings were being pulled by the same person or persons the kidnappers had worked for. His father believed the Raven’s Head Society was behind Lana’s kidnapping. According to Hank, the Ravens included some of the richest, most powerful, most influential people on the planet. But then, according to Hank, the Ravens also had a plan to rule the world in secret.

Who was the unseen player pulling Chet Chandler’s strings? All the signs pointed to there being one. Who in this town had the raw power to force United States senators to dance for them? What had Mendez stumbled into the middle of?

Chapter 2

It was a strange feeling planting a bug in a man’s computer while he stood over her, watching. Not to mention the man being grateful to have her do it.

“What would I do without you, Alex?” Senator Chandler commented as he sat down at his now-functioning computer.

She laughed. “You’d be on a first-name basis with the Congressional I.T. support guys.”

“You’re way better than those idiots,” Chandler declared. “And faster.”

She shrugged modestly. I ought to be better than those guys. I trained a bunch of them. “Just give me a shout if it acts up again, sir.”

She backed out of Chandler’s office. It was likely he wouldn’t notice her existence again until the next time his computer had a problem. She was good at being invisible. Of course, it was easy enough to do with everyone bustling around here as if the world would stop spinning if their current personal crisis didn’t get solved in the next two minutes.

Come to think of it, she’d been pretty invisible on the ranch, too. She’d been just one of the passel of kids and puppies who’d run all over the place in the summers. She and Lana had been the only girls. But nobody had ever doubted that Lana was all girl. She wore pretty clothes and didn’t like snakes or worms or touching fish, and she’d refused to rough-house with her brothers. Alex had been willing to do any of that stuff if it meant she got to spend time with Jim Kelley. And then there was her dad, of course. After the accident, he’d never been the same …

“Thanks for working your magic, Alex,” her supervisor in Chandler’s office said warmly. “I owe you one.”

Alex smiled. “Speaking of which, I’ve got a dentist appointment this afternoon. Will it be a problem for me to take a long lunch?”

The harassed chief-of-staff, Trevor McKinley, replied, “Are you kidding? You saved my life getting the boss’s computer up and running again so fast. Take the rest of the day off.”

Alex smiled and slipped out of the office. When she stepped onto the sidewalk, she pulled out her cell phone and called Jim’s office extension.

“Captain Kelley,” he answered shortly.

“Hi, it’s me. I’m done.”

“Perfect. Can I pick you up somewhere?”

She blinked, startled. He wanted to come get her? Vividly aware of not wanting to talk about sensitive information over an unsecured phone, she replied lightly, “How about I meet you?”

“Kirby’s. Noon. Lunch,” he bit out.

A lunch date with Jim Kelley? Holy cow. “Uhh, okay. See ya there.” She disconnected the call in minor shock. It was just work, but still. She was having lunch with him! She glanced down at her clothes in dismay. She looked like a prison guard in these severe gray pants and white Oxford shirt. No help for it. She didn’t have time to go home and make it back downtown before noon. So much for acting more like Lana Kelley. Abandoning the Beast in its outrageously expensive spot in the parking garage around the corner, she opted to grab the Metro to the other end of the Mall and Kirby’s Diner.

When she walked into the crowded joint at five minutes till twelve, Jim was already there. She was thankful that he subscribed religiously to the army theory that if you weren’t five minutes early, you were late. He spotted her and waved. Somehow, he’d managed to snag a postage-stamp-sized table that optimistically was supposed to seat two. She made her way through the noisy crush to join him.

She sat down and gulped as her knee promptly banged into his. She levered herself sideways to avoid physical contact with him. No way could she eat a messy hamburger while rubbing knees with the man. She’d choke to death for sure. She picked up the glass of ice water he’d already ordered for her and took a sip.

“How was your morning?” he asked.

“Productive. Yours?” she replied more breathlessly than she liked.

“The same.” Grinning, he reached into his pocket and fished out a set of keys. “Here.”

“What are these?”

“Keys to the love nest you and I are about to borrow on Capitol Hill for a little while.”

She inhaled sharply, which was unfortunate given that she was still sipping at her water. She coughed violently enough that Jim reached around to thump her on the back, which didn’t do a darned thing to help her breathe.

“Jeez. Don’t say things like that to a girl when she’s drinking.”

Abruptly grim, he murmured under the din around them, “We’re green-lighted.”

“For what?”

“Full-blown op. Looks like you’re finally going to get your wish to play soldier, and I’m going to get mine to go after Lana’s kidnappers.”

She jolted. He doesn’t know about all the things I’ve done to finagle working with him, does he? Belatedly, she realized he was talking about their argument yesterday. She scowled. “I still want to go to a war zone. Experience real combat. A ‘love nest’ on Capitol Hill hardly qualifies.”

“I dunno. The halls of power in this town can be pretty cutthroat.”

She rolled her eyes as a waitress came to take their orders and left again.

Jim leaned close. “Whatever you want, you’ve got it. Sky’s the limit.”

If only.

“Any gear, any cool gadgets you need. Just say the word.”

Whoopee. Gadgets.

“The place is furnished. All we’ve got to do is move in and go for it.”

Does he have to keep saying things like that? I’d love nothing better than to go for it with him.

“You think you’re up to this, Al?”

“Uhh. Yeah. Sure.”

“I can’t wait to nail that guy.”

I can’t wait to nail him. Oh, wait. Work. This is the mission I’ve been dreaming of getting. Minus the war zone. But hey. It’s a start.

Their lunch arrived and she stared down in dismay at the juicy burger, piled high with all the trimmings. She doubted she could get her mouth around that thing, let alone do it in either a neat or ladylike fashion.

Abandoning fashion for common sense, she unfolded her napkin and tucked it into the front of her shirt before she tackled the hamburger. Jim grinned and did the same. But then, he was wearing a three-hundred-dollar silk tie.

“When do you have to get back to the office?” he asked just as she took a bite of her sandwich.

She chewed convulsively. Don’t choke. Don’t choke. Don’t choke. Finally, she was able to answer safely, “Tomorrow morning. Trevor gave me the rest of the day off.”

“Who’s Trevor?”

Stunned, Alex stared at him. He sounded a shade defensive there for a second. “My boss. Chandler’s chief of staff.”

“Ahh.”

To Alex’s immense relief, they ate in silence after that. The last thing she needed was for Jim to have to give her the Heimlich maneuver and for her to spew half-chewed hamburger all over the place.

“Did you drive?” he asked after he casually flipped a couple of bills on the table to cover the meal and a hefty tip.

“No. The Beast is still up on the Hill.”

“Why do you keep that thing anyway?”

Because her father had saved his money for a year to buy the wreck and the two of them had fixed it up together the first winter after her brother died. She was fairly certain the car had saved her brokenhearted father’s life. And then he’d given it to her when she graduated from high school…. Its sentimental value was beyond price.

“It still runs. Why would I get rid of a perfectly functional car?” she demanded.

He shrugged. “Guess I’m driving then.”

They got into his sexy little Beemer—how did he manage to keep getting plum parking spots like that?—and headed out.

Of course, the love nest came with underground parking for two. The Beast was going to adore getting to sit beside Jim’s sleek sports car. The building also had a weight room, hot tub and indoor swimming pool, but she doubted she and Jim would be making much use of those facilities.

The building manager gave them each key cards to the building, their own security codes, and introduced them to the doorman. Finally, they were shown up to their borrowed flat and left alone.

The place wasn’t as posh as Jim’s house, but then he’d no doubt had some fancy decorator with an unlimited budget do his place. But it was a whole lot nicer than her apartment, and the furniture all matched. More to the point, it was less than three blocks from the Dirksen Building, well within the range of the bug she’d planted in the senator’s laptop.

“It only has one bedroom,” she accused. With an obscenely huge bed, no less.

“What part of love nest don’t you grasp?” he replied.

She glared at him and changed the subject. “How in the heck am I supposed to sneak my gear up here past all those doormen and security cameras?”

“I’ll help you carry it up. We’ll bring it up in pieces if we have to.”

“Oh, we’ll have to, all right.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got your back, kid.”

She really wished he’d quit calling her that. It made her feel about twelve years old. But she supposed it was better than Al. That’s what he called her around the battalion when he wasn’t bellowing out her last name at her. She sighed. How did Lana Kelley so effortlessly keep her female identity around all those guys on the ranch? Every summer, when the time drew near for the arrival of the Kelley kids for their annual summer sojourn in Montana, she’d dreaded Lana’s arrival nearly as much as she’d anticipated Jim’s.

It took the rest of the afternoon for them to shuttle electronic surveillance equipment from the battalion to Jim’s car, and from his car to the love nest, disguised in cardboard boxes he took delight in labeling things such as Naughty Lingerie and Miscellaneous Toys.

By supper time, she had an elaborate computer system up and running on the desk in the corner of the living room—the shadow system to Chet Chandler’s—and a second one to record and backup everything from the first one.

“Does it work?” Jim asked over her shoulder as she typed in the senator’s password to activate the system.

“Of course it works,” she replied scornfully. “I built it.”

“Now what?”

“Now we watch what Chet does. He’s checking his calendar right now.”

It was a little eerie watching commands and words scroll across her screen as if a ghost were typing on her keyboard.

“So, just out of curiosity,” she asked, “is this a legal wiretap, or is it completely off the books?”

“Both. My superiors have declared this a Homeland Security investigation, which means we have permission to pretty well stomp all over the good senator’s constitutional privacy rights. But it’s definitely way off the books. We don’t know how deep into the government whoever’s controlling Chet has their hooks. Only a handful of people have any idea what you and I are doing.”

“Heck, I don’t have any idea what we’re doing. For months I’ve been working for the senator and I still have no idea what I’m supposed to be looking for.”

“Have you got a white-noise maker?” he asked quietly.

She frowned. “We’ve already swept the place for bugs or cameras.”

“I know.” He gave her a sober look.

Well, okay then. “Lemme go get it.” It took her several minutes of digging around in her “Boring Underwear” box to find the darned thing, but she brought the noisemaker into the living room and plugged it in. She threw Jim an expectant look.

He gestured for her to sit on the other end of the sofa from him. Even with the electronic interference of her gadget all around them, he still spoke barely above a whisper. What on earth could be making the man this paranoid?

“We have reason to believe that Senator Chandler is part of a large-scale conspiracy. The same one that nearly killed my father.”

“How’s Hank doing by the way? Any change?”

“No. They’ve still got him in the induced coma until the swelling in his brain comes down some more. We were hoping he could tell us exactly who’s involved in this conspiracy, or at least who threatened him when Lana was kidnapped. It may be a while yet before he can talk … assuming he remembers anything at all when he wakes up.”

“What does Lana have to do with this conspiracy thing?” Alex asked, startled.

“We believe whoever kidnapped her did it to force my father into cooperating with this group. Maybe they needed him to do something for them.”

“Why couldn’t they get some other congressman to do their dirty work for them? Why him?” Alex asked.

Jim shrugged. “Until he wakes up and can tell us that, your guess is as good as mine. Lord knows, my old man is no saint.”

That wasn’t news to her. But it was hard to imagine him lying unconscious in a hospital bed. He’d always been so loud and forceful and dynamic. As a kid, she’d been more than a little afraid of him.

“What do you know about this conspiracy?” she asked.

“Precious little. We know they recruit rich and powerful people. They probably hide their money behind some corporate shell company.”

“What do they want?”

“In a word—power.”

She sighed. “Them and everyone else in this town.”

“I’m talking serious power. Way beyond what some elected schmuck can gather in a few terms on the right committees. I’m talking running nations. Taking down world leaders if they feel like it. Starting wars. Or ending them.”

Whoa. He was talking Power with a capital P. “So we’re looking for links to these guys in Senator Chandler’s computer? Have you got a name? Anything?”

“Nope. We’re running blind.”

Good thing he had her, then. Her job was to give eyes and ears—real-time, usable intelligence—to operators in the field. “All right then. Let’s take a look at Chet’s email correspondence. If we don’t find anything there, how about we move on to a list of his biggest donors? Stands to reason if he’s in someone’s back pocket, that person is paying to keep the senator in office.”

Jim nodded. “The money’s probably coming in privately or through some network of cover corporations.”

She grinned. “That would be why I’ve got the second computer here. How about I surf the internet and see what I can scare up on his various donors? Maybe I can find connections between some of them.”

“Have at it. I hate to abandon you, but I’ve got to get back to the office. Delta Company’s about to touch down in Africa and I need to get their initial threat assessment.”

She sighed. “Rub salt in the wound, will ya?”

“Get over it, Mendez.”

Heck, she’d been trying to get over him for the past fifteen years to no avail. What made him think she was going to get over her goal to experience combat up close and personal any time soon? As if.

Chapter 3

Jim paused outside the door of the love nest, supper in hand. How weird was this, posing as lover to Alex? Hell, it made him hinky even to think about her being a girl. She’d always been Arturo’s kid sister, and then she’d been the resident tomboy on the ranch. Not to mention she was one of his troops now, too—even if she was only on loan to his unit. She was practically one of the guys, for God’s sake. His Kelley family loyalty was torn—catch Lana’s kidnappers or put Alex in danger. How was he supposed to choose?

He pushed the door open and, no surprise, Alex was seated in front of the second computer. “Hi, honey. I’m home.”

She made a rude remark any one of his soldiers might have made to him and kept typing.

He laughed and went into the tiny kitchen. “I hope you like Chinese. I picked up takeout for us.”

“Give me the one with beef.”

“How’d you know I got one with beef?” he challenged.

“Your family owns a cattle ranch in Montana. It’s your duty to support the beef industry.”

He grinned and carried the white cardboard box to her. “Beef and broccoli.”

“Thanks.”

“Find anything?” he asked from the armchair across the room.

“Maybe. The senator is going to a fundraiser tomorrow night hosted by some company called the McNaught Group. Ever hear of them?”

“No. Should I have?”

She shrugged. “You’d have to run in the right circles to come across them.”

He frowned. What was that supposed to mean?

She continued, “They describe themselves as a strategic analysis and investment group. Whatever the heck that is. But what’s interesting is several of their board members are donors to the Chandler campaign. Why would east-coast power brokers give a darn about the junior senator from Nebraska?”

“Good question.”

“I did a little digging on McNaught’s finances and ran into a whole bunch of nesting corporations. A dozen or more of them lead back to other Chandler donors.”

“Any way you can tell if they contributed to my dad’s campaign?”

“I’d have to get a list of your father’s campaign contributors. I don’t know if that’s readily available public information.”

He made a face. “I know just the person to get it for us.”

“Who?”

“Who else? My mother.”

“Really. You don’t have to call her. I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation with your family.”

“Just because she’s divorcing Hank, that doesn’t mean she isn’t as interested as I am in catching whoever kidnapped her baby girl. She’ll help me.”

Alex chose that moment to spill her beef and broccoli all over her shirt. Red-faced, she made a dash for the bathroom. He pulled out his cell phone. “Hi, Mom. How are you doing tonight?”

Sarah Mistler Kelley sounded as composed as she always did. “I’m fine, dear. Is there any change in his condition?”

No need to ask who she meant. She might have left Hank because of his mistresses, but she’d loved the man and had had six children with him. Jim answered her regretfully, “No change. They’re still waiting for the brain swelling to come down so they can let him regain consciousness. The doctors said it could be a week or more. We just have to be patient.”

A sigh came through the line. “Thanks for the update.”

“Actually, that’s not why I called.”

“Oh?”

“I’m looking into who kidnapped Lana. Just poking around informally to make sure the police are doing their job. I was wondering if you have a list of campaign donors from Dad’s last couple of elections.”

“Of course. I had to put together all the seating charts at the fundraisers and send out the thank-you notes. I can email the lists to you if you like.”

“That would be great.”

By the time Alex emerged from the bedroom wearing jeans and a maroon Harvard T-shirt, he was seated at her computer, logged on to his email and printing out the donor list, which had already come through from Sarah. Efficient woman, his mother.

“Ask and ye shall receive,” he told Alex as he handed over the list.

She nodded and jerked a thumb at him to get out of her seat. Grinning, he moved aside.

“Want a beer?” he asked.

She threw him a strangely hurt look. “No, thank you.”

What was up with that? He’d seen her hoist a cold one with the guys in the unit plenty of times before. Whatever. He turned on the world news to see if there was any new pirate activity being reported in the Sea of Aden. It was a sad but true fact that he got nearly as much of his intelligence on world events from the news channels as he did through classified military means.

Alex worked through the evening, surfing and scribbling. Finally, at about ten o’clock, she pushed her chair back and rubbed the back of her neck.

“Need me to work out that kink?” he offered.

She jolted so hard she all but fell out of her chair. “No. I got it.”

“Find anything?”

“Maybe. Yes. I think so.”

“What’ve you got?”

He plugged in the white-noise machine as she moved over to the sofa and spread her notes out on the coffee table. “At least twenty of the same corporate donors and another dozen large private donors contributed to both your father’s and Chet’s last campaigns. These folks have donated to Chandler’s last several campaigns, but they were all first-time donors to your dad’s last campaign.”

He frowned, staring at the lengthy list of names. He’d never heard his father mention any of these people. “I don’t think any of these guys are from California.”

“I know they’re not.” She shrugged. “Your father and Chandler both tend to vote conservatively, so these donors could conceivably just be supporting like-minded senatorial candidates. Or, they could’ve bought Chet a while back and just be getting around to buying your father. How’d Hank’s last campaign go?”

“It was a close thing. His conservative platform doesn’t always play well with west-coast voters. He was behind in all the polls throughout the campaign and forecasted by everyone to lose. Then he got a big influx of cash at the last minute and was able to blitz the media with family-values ads.” He added bitterly, “Which we all know now to be a load of crap.”

Alex replied quietly, “Just because he cheated on his wife doesn’t mean he doesn’t love his kids.”

Jim shrugged. “He’s not the man I thought he was.” He figured Alex would know what he was talking about. She’d grown up around Hank and seen how larger-than-life but out of reach the man had always been, especially in the eyes of his sons.

“Lots of people aren’t the same as they appear on the surface.”

She sounded oddly choked up when she said that. He studied her closely, but her dark eyes gave away nothing. But then she cleared her throat and said briskly, “Almost every donor on that list is going to be at Senator Chandler’s fundraiser tomorrow night.”

“The one this McNaught Group is putting on?” Jim asked.

She nodded.

“Then I guess I’m going to have to get myself invited to it,” he commented.

“How?” Alex blurted.

“Easy. I’ll call and tell them I want to give Chandler money.”

She replied doubtfully, “The guest list is pretty exclusive. Some of the richest people in this part of the country are going.”

“All the more reason to be there. Sounds like exactly the kind of people I’m looking for.”

She said hesitantly, “I don’t know if you’re rich enough to get in. And the cost per plate is thirty thousand dollars.”

He shrugged. “We can always have Homeland Security add a few zeroes to my bank-account totals if it turns out I’m not wealthy enough to get in on my own.”

She blinked, stunned. “They can do that?”

He laughed. “I wasn’t kidding when I said you and I can have whatever we want on this op. The people who put me on this job seriously want to see this bunch of folks exposed.”

“Wow.”

“I’ll arrange for the boost to my bank accounts in the morning. And you’d better call in sick for work tomorrow.”

She stared at him. “Why?”

“Because you have to go shopping.”

“For what?”

“A decent dress to wear to the McNaught fundraiser with me.”

“What?” she squawked.

“Do you even own a dress, Mendez?”

“Of course,” she answered quickly enough that he wondered if she was telling the truth.

“It’ll need to be a fancy one. The McNaught fundraiser is no doubt black-tie.”

“As in tuxedos and ball gowns?” she practically squeaked.

“Exactly.”

She subsided, looking horrified. He laughed. “Chin up, kid. If you’re nice to me I won’t take blackmail pictures of you in a dress to post in the unit.”

“Try it and I’ll have to get even with you.”

“How do you figure you’ll do that?”

“I’ll tell everyone about you kissing the goat.”

Laughter rolled through him. “Lord, I haven’t thought about that in years. The Colton twins dared me to do it.”

“The way I heard it, they didn’t dare you to do it at the summer dance. Taking that poor goat as your date was purely your idea. I can’t wait to see what the guys in the unit do when they find out you make out with goats,” she gloated.

He groaned. “Okay, fine. No pictures tomorrow. Truce?” He held out a hand to shake on the deal.

She reached for his hand but failed to take into account the coffee table between them and pitched over it into the sofa. Fortunately, the piece was overstuffed and broke her fall without injury.

“Remind me to wear body armor under my tux tomorrow night,” he declared. “I’m going to need it if I’m going to dance with you.”

Her response was muffled by the sofa cushions, but given the irritation in her voice, he was glad he couldn’t make out the words.

“I’m heading home, Mendez. Give me a call in the morning if you come up with anything new overnight.”

Something unrepeatable floated out of the sofa pillow. Laughing quietly, he walked out the door.

Alex stared at the closed door and all but burst into tears. When was she going to stop turning into a complete klutz every time he touched her or walked into the room with her?

A black-tie dinner dance, huh? With Jim Kelley? She was so hosed. The only dress she owned was the one she’d worn to her uncle’s funeral a few years ago, and it had managed to be out of style even then.

Desperate, she picked up her phone and made a panicked call. “Carla, you’ve got to save my life.”

She’d gone to high school with Carla Grant back in Maple Cove and the young woman had come to town recently to work in the new Washington, D.C., office of Walsh Enterprises, an oil and gas exploration company headquartered back in Montana.

“What’s up, Alex?” Carla laughed. “Did you get lost in a department store and accidentally wander into the women’s clothing section? Remember, you get your clothes in men’s wear.”

“Very funny. That’s my problem. I’ve got to get a dress. A long one. For a fancy dance. I have to do makeup and everything. And, ohmigosh, my hair. I can’t wear a ponytail to this thing.”

“Whoa! You have a date? With a living, breathing man? Spill, girlfriend.”

Alex scowled. “I’ve been invited to a fundraiser for the senator I work for.”

“By whom? Not one of those gay Congressional staffers using you to convince people they’re straight?” Carla demanded.

“No. Jim Kelley.”

Silence came from the other end of the line. Had she given Carla a no-kidding heart attack? “Did I kill you?” Alex asked anxiously as the silence stretched out.

An ear-splitting scream erupted in her ear, making Alex yank the phone away from her head. From arm’s length, she still heard Carla squeal, “Tell me everything!”

“There’s not much to tell. He’s going to a fundraiser and had to bring a guest. I guess he’s between blonde confections right now and had to grab the first available female on short notice. Or maybe the last available female,” she added a little sourly.

“When’s this big event of yours?” Carla demanded, getting down to the serious business of date preparation.

“Tomorrow night.”

“Oh my God. Call in sick tomorrow. I’ll do the same. This is going to take us all day.”

“How long does it take to shop for one lousy dress, anyway?” Alex asked in alarm.

“It’s not just a dress. There are the shoes and lingerie and makeup and hair, the mani-pedi—”

Alex made a sound of distress.

“—don’t you worry. Leave it all to me.”

Like Alex had any choice. She was completely clueless about all this girl stuff. Her mother had taken off when she was an infant and she’d only had her dad and a ranch full of cowboys to raise her. Which had been bad enough. But when Arturo had died, everything had changed.

It wasn’t as if she’d had any choice but to try to step into her dead brother’s shoes. Her father was so distraught she’d been terrified she’d lose him, too. If becoming her older brother in every way she could manage saved her dad, she’d been willing to do it. Even if it had cost her dresses and dating and growing gracefully into a young woman.

She’d even gone into the army, like Arturo was supposed to do. And the army wasn’t exactly a bastion of instruction in the feminine arts. She’d gotten her college degree mostly online while she bounced around from army post to army post, secretly trying to catch up with Jim Kelley.

Even the assignment to Chandler’s office hadn’t helped much. The man had only a few female staffers, and rumor had it they were on staff only because of old charges of sexism against Chet. The women in Chandler’s office were so busy proving they were as good as the boys that they didn’t wallow in things feminine much, either.

“I’ll be there at 10:00 a.m. sharp,” Carla announced, breaking Alex’s gloomy train of thought. “That’s when the malls open.”

“Right. Ten o’clock.” She gave Carla quick instructions to the love nest and then added, “Thanks, Carla.”

“Hey. What are friends for?”

Chapter 4

After three solid hours of shopping with Carla, Alex was beginning to have deep reservations about her friend. The woman was a slave driver. Who knew this business of girly primping was so darned much work?

At least she had a moment to catch her breath while two nice ladies administered her first ever mani-pedi. So this was what it was like to be a girl, huh? She had to admit it was nice. But she would never tell that to Carla, of course. Although, how she was going to type with French-tipped fingernails was anybody’s guess.

Carla pulled out an actual checklist and glanced through it again. “Hair’s in twenty minutes. You can eat while your highlights go in. I can’t believe you only gave me one day to work a miracle, Alex. What were you thinking?”

Alex winced. “He asked me last night. I didn’t get any more warning than you.”

“Well, at least the dress is a knock-out. Jim Kelley’s not going to know what hit him.”

And neither would her bank account when that credit card came due. But the dress really was stunning. It was red, of course. With her honey-hued skin and dark hair, that was a no-brainer. How the gown managed to be slinky and classy at the same time was a mystery to her, though. Carla declared it the result of a great designer. Alex just knew she’d never felt so pretty … or feminine.

She was abjectly grateful when Carla took over the conversation with the hairdresser. They got going about highlights and lowlights and she was dead lost by the time they got to layers and weight around her face. Who knew hair had weight?

Carla was fretting by the time they got back to the love nest at four o’clock, fussing that they barely had time to dress her before Jim came at seven to pick her up.

“Wow. Nice place,” Carla commented as Alex let her into the flat. She’d mentioned to Jim that she was inviting an old girlfriend over as part of establishing the cover of living there and he hadn’t objected. And Carla couldn’t tell the business end of a computer any more than Alex could tell the business end of a mascara brush, as it turned out.

The next hour was spent in the bathroom with abundant laughter from Carla and abundant cursing from Alex.

“Okay, Alex. Watch carefully. You roll the mascara brush like this. It separates your lashes and gives them more volume.”

She got the hang of putting on makeup eventually, and she had to admit that when it was all said and done, she didn’t look like a slutty raccoon as she’d feared she would. In fact, her brown eyes looked huge and dramatic, and her smile looked, well, amazing.

“I can’t believe that’s me,” she breathed into the mirror. Her dark hair draped around her face and over her shoulders in lush waves that made her look exotic and sexy. Totally un-Alex.

“Oh, it’s you, all right,” Carla declared. “I’ve been saying all along you’d clean up great if you’d just give it a try. Let’s go zip you into your dress. Can I leave it to you to put on your own shoes before Jim gets here?”

Alex stuck her tongue out at her friend. Putting the shoes on wasn’t what worried her. Walking in them was. The strappy stilettos had at least three-inch heels, and she was going to be within a hundred yards of Jim Kelley—a deadly combination.

In a few minutes, she stood in front of the full-length mirror in the walk-in closet, simply staring.

“Don’t you cry on me, Alex Mendez. I worked too hard getting that makeup just right on you. And don’t kid yourself. It may be waterproof mascara, but it’ll still run down your chin and give you a fake beard if you boo-hoo enough.”

Alex blinked away the tears in her eyes and hugged her friend. “You’re the best, Carla.”

“Of course I am. That’s why I’m your friend. I’m going to skedaddle before Tall, Dark, and Gorgeous gets here. But you have to swear to tell me how he reacts when he sees you. That boy’s going to have a cow. Although, as I recall, goats are more his style,” Carla laughed.

Alex grinned. “I mentioned that last night. May I recommend you not bring it up in his presence? Apparently, he’s still a little touchy on the subject of dating ba-a-a-ah-d girls.”

Laughing, Carla fetched her purse. “Call me tomorrow. Promise?”

“Promise.”

Alex had barely enough time after letting out Carla to go back to the bedroom, check her lipstick, which was supposedly some sort of long-lasting stain, and smooth her gown down her body before she heard a key in the front door.

“Ready to go, Mendez?” Jim called from the living room.

She picked up the red, crystal-covered clutch with her emergency makeup in it and stepped out of the bedroom.

Jim Kelley was a hard man to shock speechless, but when Alex Mendez appeared wearing the sexiest red dress he’d ever seen, damned if speech didn’t desert him entirely. His gaze slid all the way down to her painted toenails and back up past the sexy skirt slit with a slender, tanned leg peeking out of it, past the low-cut top—and hitching for a moment on the provocative cleavage—to the lush waves of hair, and finally her face. With makeup. Cripes, she looked like a movie star.

“Mendez?” he finally choked out. “What happened to you?”

She blinked, alarmed. “Why? Is something wrong? You said it was formal.” She ran a panicked hand down the clingy fabric of her dress.

“Hell, no. Nothing’s wrong. You look …” He struggled for a word and finally settled on “… magnificent. Incredible. Are you sure I can’t take a picture? The guys will never believe me—”

“No pictures!” she blurted.

He supposed he could understand her not wanting the Neanderthals at the office harassing her for impersonating a girl. Although, as impersonations went, this one was pretty damned spectacular. Gussied up, Alex Mendez was beautiful.

A slow smile spread across his face as he formally offered her his arm. He asked politely, “Are you ready to go, Alex? We wouldn’t want to be late.”

Hesitantly, she laid her hand on his forearm, and he waited for her to fall over. But shockingly, she remained upright. She took a cautious step. Another. Normally, he’d make a sarcastic comment about her walking upright for a change, but suddenly, picking on her felt weird. Not nearly as weird as the idea that Mendez was a hot chick, though.

Her dad would be so proud of her. And Arturo—He broke off that train of thought sharply, but it insisted on completing itself. Arturo should’ve been alive to see this day. To see his little sister grow up into a beautiful woman. Jim shook his head. She looked so much like him it hurt. She shared some of Arturo’s demons, too, apparently. His gut twisted. He might not have been able to save her brother from himself, but he would damn well save her.

Bedeviled by grim thoughts, he only belatedly noticed that they made it all the way down to his BMW, which was double-parked out front, without mishap. He hovered protectively as he tucked her into his car and made sure her gown wouldn’t get caught in the door. During the short drive to the swanky hotel hosting the event, he glanced over at her every minute or two.

Finally, Alex demanded, “What’s wrong? You’re acting like I’ve sprouted a second head.”

He jerked his gaze back to the road. “Not at all. I just can’t get over how great you look. I’m trying to figure out how I missed it all these years.”

He supposed that would’ve involved him really looking at her. But how did you look someone in the eye when you’d killed their brother? Sure, the police had ruled it all an unfortunate accident. And yeah, he’d told Arturo to quit screwing around and sit down and buckle his seat belt. And no one could’ve known those deer would jump out in front of the truck, or that the road would be a touch icy in that spot. Or that the truck would careen off an embankment and plunge nearly fifty feet into a ravine—

She mumbled, sounding disgruntled, “I’m not a blonde.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Alex shrugged, “You always go for blondes. Even that poor goat was a blonde. I’m not your type. That’s why you don’t notice me.”

Guilt kicked him in the solar plexus. Hell, now he was giving her a complex on top of killing her brother. “Alex, you’re any man’s type. Women don’t come too much more beautiful or sexy than you. You’re going to turn every head at the ball.”

She rolled her eyes at him, but he meant it. She was a knockout.

He pulled up in front of the hotel and flipped his keys and a hefty tip to the valet, who also seemed to be having trouble tearing his gaze away from Alex.

As the Beemer pulled away, Jim held his arm out to her once more. “Shall we?” he murmured, smiling warmly.

A slow, answering smile unfolded on her face and Jim caught his breath. The woman just kept getting more gorgeous the longer he looked at her.

He hadn’t overstated the reaction other men would have to her. Indeed, heads turned as the two of them stepped into the ballroom. A gray-haired man Jim didn’t recognize closed in on them immediately. “Welcome, Mr. Kelley. Glad to have you join us tonight.”

Slick operators, these McNaught people, to be able to identify him on sight with less than one day’s notice. “Call me Jim,” he replied smoothly. “Thanks for having me on such short notice. I’m excited to contribute to getting Senator Chandler back in Congress for another term. Chet and I see eye-to-eye on so many things. It’s nice to know my interests are being looked out for on Capitol Hill.”

“You’re Hank Kelley’s boy, aren’t you? How’s he doing?”

Jim answered grimly, “He’s still in a coma. No sign of a recovery.” And if these bastards were the ones who’d shot him, Jim would personally see to it they regretted it for the rest of their unnaturally short lives.

The guy actually slapped Jim’s back. “So, Jim. Tell me more about you. What business are you in?”

“Businesses, plural,” Jim replied, shrugging. “A little of this and that. Ranching, oil, gold, precious commodities. Whatever makes me money and a lot of it.”

“Not risk-averse, are you?” their escort asked.

Jim laughed. “Caution is for the weak or uninformed.”

Another man joined them and the first one commented, “We were just talking about investments.”

The second man asked, “So why this particular fundraiser, Mr. Kelley? I understand you pulled a lot of strings to buy last-minute tickets.”

“I’m interested in McNaught. Tonight’s party gave me an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. Support the Chandler campaign and finally meet the McNaught powers-that-be.”

“For what purpose, Mr. Kelley?” the second man asked a little too casually.

He chose to misunderstand the fellow. “Why, to get Chet Chandler reelected, of course. Isn’t that why we’re all here?”

“Of course,” both men replied, flashing him plastic smiles in unison. Not long after that, the men drifted away. Jim repeated the same conversation with only small variations, no less than a half dozen more times before dinner was served.

As the crowd abandoned its cocktails to be seated and eat undercooked scallops and overcooked filet mignon, he glanced down at Alex. “You’re being awfully quiet.”

“Observing.”

He asked through his smile, “See anything interesting?”

“Definitely. We’ll talk later.”

He leaned down and all but put his mouth on her ear. “That sounds perfect.”

She tilted her head toward him and murmured back without moving her lips, “Hidden cameras. Microphones or lip readers or both. Watch what you say.”

He replied, “Guess I’ll just have to spend the rest of the evening telling you how beautiful and sexy you are.” Her eyes widened in something approaching shock, and he added, “You’ve got to get over acting surprised. People will think something’s wrong with you if you don’t take the compliments as your due. Try to act at home in your skin, darling.”

“Easier said than done, snookums.”

He laughed. “I like this look on you. You should stick with it.”

“Have you seen who I work with?” she retorted.

He grinned ruefully at her. “For the record, they’d all love you like this.”

“For the record, I’d never hear the end of it if I showed up at the office looking like this.”

“Would that be so bad?” he asked half-seriously.

She caught the change of mood and considered. “Maybe. I don’t know. I’d have to think about it.”

Dinner was innocent enough. They were seated with various high-power business people and just plain rich folks, and the McNaught representative at their table didn’t ply Jim with any probing questions. Chet Chandler gave a predictable and thoroughly boring speech. No wonder he needed McNaught’s money to get himself reelected. The guy was as inspiring as dirty dishwater.

After dessert, waiters rapidly disassembled the tables and hauled them out while a swing band set up on the stage, transforming the venue into a dance.

And that was when the sharks closed in on Alex. There were plenty of harrumphing wives keeping husbands anchored firmly to their sides, but a solid third of the crowd was single, or at least unattached tonight, males. And they had no compunction about moving in on the stunning brunette and flirting her up. It was enough to make a guy a little defensive and a lot territorial.

The first time a slick lawyer from a major international law firm tried to get her phone number, Jim was surprised when Alex flashed him a faintly alarmed look and leaned in closer to him. His arm just naturally went around her shoulder to hug her to his side. Belatedly, he told himself it was what he would have done had she been Lana and some creep moved in on her. But Lana had Deacon now, and the guy was a professional mercenary. He doubted anyone would be moving in on his little sister any time soon.

Meanwhile, Alex seemed genuinely rattled by the aggressive male attention coming her way. After a drunk CEO blatantly tried to proposition her, Alex fled to the restroom and hid there until Jim called in through the door, “He’s gone, Alex. You can come out now.”

She emerged sheepishly, her face a perfect match for her scarlet dress.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I’ll live.”

“There’s one sure way to get rid of these jokers, you know,” he said.

“Do tell.”

“Dance with me.”

She smiled ruefully. “They’ll take one look at what a klutz I am and run screaming, huh?”

He placed his hand in the small of her back and guided her toward the large dance floor. “No. They’ll figure out the lady’s taken.”

“But I’m not—”

He cut her off gently. “They only have to think you are.”

“And how do I accomplish that?” she demanded.

“Follow my lead.” He swept her into his arms and spun her around once. And then he pulled her against him, plastering her body against his and—

Whoa. The woman was screaming hot. Her curves fit against his in all the right places, and in her nervous tension, she all but vibrated against him. The sexual energy thrumming through her roared through him.

His mind was completely blown. This was Alex Mendez. Suddenly and completely without warning, she’d gone from one of the guys, kid sister and tomboy to all woman. He had no idea what to think about that, but he knew one thing for sure. She felt pretty damned good in his arms.

As if he deserved to derive one single ounce of happiness from being with her. He was a royal jerk. The Mendez family owed him nothing.

His arm must’ve tightened more than he’d intended, crushing her against him, because she gasped in surprise.

Startled, he glanced down at her.

Her lush lips had parted and her eyes widened. As he watched, mesmerized, she ran the tip of her tongue over her lips, moistening them to kiss-me-now-you-fool status.

Stop thinking like that! he shouted at himself inside his head.

“That’s better,” he ground out. “Now you look like a woman in love.”

Chapter 5

Alex froze in Jim’s arms. Ho. Lee. Crap. She wasn’t supposed to look in love with him! That was her secret, never, ever to be shared or revealed to him, or anyone else for that matter. Think about something else. The weather. The stock market. Starving children in Africa! It didn’t help. She was in love with him and dancing in his arms, darn it. How was she supposed to think about anything else?

She’d fantasized about a moment exactly like this for years. Her all gussied up and ravishingly beautiful, him all gussied up and incapable of taking his eyes or hands off her. A fancy ball, dim lights and just the two of them gazing at one another and dancing the night away.

He was leading her carefully around the dance floor and holding her as if he thought she’d fall on her face if he held her any less tightly. He dragged her through her momentary fantasy-induced paralysis.

“Hey,” she finally managed to respond with fake cheer, “I’m supposed to look besotted with you. It’s my job. Act like the girlfriend, right?”

He cleared his throat. “Uhh, right. Exactly.”

She shouldn’t have done it, but this was a once-in-a-life-time opportunity. She let her hand stray from his shoulder to the back of his neck, her fingertips playing with the short hairs there. In response, his right hand strayed from her waist down toward the higher curves of her buttocks. She lifted her face to breathe gently on his neck; he tilted his head down to murmur compliments against her temple. She gazed up into his eyes, and he stared back, his sapphire eyes more turbulent and thoughtful than she’d expected. His intense expression unnerved her, sending strange tingles jangling through her body.

He’s only pretending. This was a job for him, too. She was his cover so he could approach the McNaught people. Nothing more. But her body wasn’t paying the slightest attention to her brain. Her breathing insisted on running fast and shallow, and she continued to feel hot and trembly all over.

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