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“I meant how did you know where to look for me?”
“Your hobbies include fishing. Since Stockholm is built on islands, I deduced you would likely gravitate toward water so I chose the route that led to the nearest bridge.”
“That’s very astute reasoning, but how did you know about my hobbies?”
“I assembled a background file on you when I accepted this mission and I memorized it on the flight over.” She stopped in front of the elevator. It was an old-fashioned model with frosted glass doors and a folding metal gate. The visibility it provided was an asset—Sarah could see at a glance it was empty.
“Background file?” Lemay asked as they stepped into the car.
“It’s standard operating procedure, Dr. Lemay. Nothing personal. Unfortunately, it appears as if the shooter we encountered this afternoon has acquired information about your habits, as well.” She closed the doors and slid the gate into position. She pressed the button for the fifth floor, which was the top story of the historic building that served as the hotel’s main wing. The elevator started upward with a jerk. “As I said before, we can discuss this once we’re somewhere more secure.”
“Where are you staying?”
“Since I’m your bodyguard, I’ll be staying with you.”
“Wait a minute. I never agreed to this.”
“It’s the only way to do my duty properly. Until the conference is over, I’m your shadow. You don’t go anywhere without me.”
He hit the emergency stop button. The car shuddered as it clunked to a halt between the second and third floors. “This has gone far enough.”
“You have a two-room suite consisting of a bedroom and sitting room. I realize the rooms in the King Gustav are small by North American standards, but there should be adequate space for both of us.”
“That’s not the point.”
“I’ll bunk down in the sitting room. I’ve already arranged to have a cot sent up.”
He set her suitcase on the floor and grasped her shoulders, turning her to face him. “I didn’t agree to any of this. Who sent you? Let me talk to your commanding officer.” He paused. “Captain?”
She had tried to keep her face expressionless but she hadn’t been able to stop the wince when he’d touched her bruises. She shrugged off his grip and stepped back. “My C.O. for this mission is Major Mitchell Redinger. You can reach him at Fort Bragg. I’ll give you his contact number once we’re in your suite.”
He leaned down to bring his face level with hers. “What’s wrong? And don’t tell me it’s nothing.”
There was no point lying—even someone who wasn’t as intelligent as Lemay would be able to see she was in pain. “I took a round during my previous mission,” she said. “My body armor stopped the bullet but the impact of the high-caliber round dislocated my left shoulder.”
He returned his hand to her shoulder. He didn’t touch her. He held his fingers a breath above her coat, then caught a stray lock of her hair and tucked it behind her ear.
The gesture was so unexpected, so…tender, it took Sarah a moment before she could continue. “There was some bruising so the joint is still somewhat sensitive,” she said. “I assure you it won’t interfere with my ability to do my duty.”
He dropped his hand. “You hit me with your left shoulder when you knocked me down,” he murmured. “You reinjured it because of me.”
“My comfort is immaterial. My duty is to protect you.”
“My God, you don’t even know me.”
He was wrong, she thought. She knew every fact about Hawkins Lemay that could be gathered by Army Intelligence. The background file she’d assembled had been impressively thick and contained far more than a list of his hobbies. And it had been a long flight.
His credentials as a scientist were beyond repute, his accomplishments in the field of particle physics were astounding. At only thirty-five, he was the world’s leading expert on nuclear fusion, respected by his colleagues, courted by foreign governments and ambitious businessmen alike…and considered important enough by the American government to warrant personal protection. Major Redinger’s orders had come straight from the Pentagon.
Still, there were things the file hadn’t told her. She’d known Lemay was six foot two, 198 pounds, physically fit because of his daily jogging, but she hadn’t known how gracefully he moved, or how long and tanned his fingers were, or how the battered, brown leather jacket he wore creaked subtly with his motions and smelled so deliciously of fresh air and man…
“You’re the man I’ve been assigned to protect, Dr. Lemay,” she said. “That’s really all I need to know.” She stretched past him to restart the elevator. It resumed its slow ascent with a jerk. Lemay reached out to steady her, but she ignored him and took a quick step sideways.
He picked up her suitcase. His voice was low and tense. “I’m sorry I hurt you. Would it help to put ice on your shoulder?”
“No problem. I’ll be fine.”
“Who were you protecting that time?”
She kept her attention on the passing floors. “Excuse me?”
“When you were shot?”
“It was a hostage rescue. A seven-year-old boy.”
“Since when does the Army do hostage rescue… Ah. I should have seen it.” His voice took on a curl of interest. “Hostage rescue, bodyguard detail. You’re no ordinary soldier, you’re with Delta Force.”
His insight didn’t surprise her. After all, he was a genius. “Yes, sir. Here’s our floor. Stay back until I check the corridor.” She opened the gate with one hand and slipped her gun from her pocket with the other. She listened first, but she heard nothing from the hall. She held up her palm, motioning Lemay to remain where he was, then stepped out of the elevator. When she assured herself the way was clear, she glanced behind her.
She had half expected him to defy her order and follow her, but he was still standing by the elevator, her suitcase tucked under one arm as if it weighed nothing. His jacket gaped open, exposing a wrinkled denim shirt. The lighting in the corridor was as subdued as it had been in the lobby, yet the shadows couldn’t hide the sharp glint in his gaze.
The striking blue eyes he’d inherited from Cynthia Hawkins, his New England mother. The midnight-black hair and strong bone structure had been passed down from Pascal Lemay, his Cajun father. Those were facts she had known since she’d memorized his face from the photograph in his background file.
But the photo hadn’t shown that gleam in his eyes. It was a glimpse of the power that dwelled behind the distinctive features, a hint of Dr. Hawkins Lemay’s awesome intellect.
He held her gaze as he closed the distance between them. His big body moved with the careless ease of a predator, another fact that wasn’t contained in his file. He paused in front of her, once more filling her senses with the scent of leather and man. “Tell me the truth, Captain Fox,” he said. “What’s the real reason you’re here?”
Chapter 2
Hawk crossed his ankles and leaned against the door frame as he watched Captain Fox move through the bedroom. Like the rest of the suite she’d already been through, the bedroom was decorated predominantly in ivory and pale rose, with antique furniture that carried the dark patina of age. But the captain wasn’t interested in the décor any more than he was. She’d claimed she was checking for bombs or booby traps, and she appeared to be doing a thorough job.
His belongings were still in his suitcase—he hadn’t taken the time to unpack before he’d felt the need to go out for a walk—but even the suitcase hadn’t escaped her scrutiny. She was sticking to her story, yet the more Hawk thought about it, the more he wondered whether he should trust her.
That wasn’t anything new. He seldom trusted anyone. “Don’t you find it odd that out of all the soldiers who could have been assigned to guard me, your Major Redinger chose an injured woman?”
She strode past the bed to the window, tested the lock, then closed the curtains. “Not odd in the least, Dr. Lemay. I was the best person for the job.”
“Because you speak Swedish?”
“Yes, that was one of the factors in my favor.”
“What are some of the others?”
“I’m an excellent shot. And like many of the other soldiers of Delta Force, I’ve received bodyguard training from the Secret Service.” She did a final survey of the bedroom and its adjoining bathroom, then walked past him to return to the suite’s elegant sitting area. “And as I already told you, my injury won’t interfere with my ability to do my duty. The bulk of my work will involve coordinating security with the hotel and the local police.”
He pivoted to keep her in sight. Her inspection apparently complete, she unbuttoned her coat as she moved to the carved wooden wardrobe beside the suite’s door. He was relieved to see that she didn’t betray any difficulty moving her shoulder when she hung up her coat. While he still needed to be more certain of his facts before he could trust her, the pain he’d seen earlier when he’d grabbed her had been authentic, he was certain of that.
Her description of her injury had been curtly businesslike. She hadn’t wanted his sympathy. Why? Was it because she was trying to be professional, or because she simply didn’t like admitting vulnerability? Both, he decided. “Is personal protection your specialty?” he asked.
“My duties are varied, depending on the mission,” she replied, taking her cell phone and her gun from her coat. She closed the wardrobe and turned to face him. “But my specialty is intelligence.”
She wore a turtleneck sweater and tailored pants. Like her coat, they were black. Unlike her coat, they didn’t conceal her figure.
Hawk saw that her body was as feminine as her face, an appealing combination of slenderness and curves. Softness over strength, like the silk scarf at her neck that was a whimsical splash of color against the sober black of her clothes. Yet her appeal arose from more than her appearance. It was the fluid way she moved and the confident way she angled her chin. Although she wasn’t tall, she had the kind of presence that gave the impression of height.
She slipped her phone into her pants pocket and reached behind her to tuck her gun into her waistband at the small of her back. The movement tightened her sweater over her breasts. Firm, temptingly rounded breasts that would fit perfectly into his palms…
Hawk lifted his gaze to her face.
She was staring straight at him, so she had to have noticed where he’d been looking. She seemed to have guessed what he’d been thinking, too. Yet she didn’t shrink from his regard. She met it with the assurance of a woman who was at ease with her sexuality and saw no need to deny it.
Sarah Fox was an intriguing woman, a study in contradictions. She handled a gun as easily as a telephone. She had chosen a career in a male-dominated field, yet she was blatantly female.
What kind of woman would risk her life for a stranger?
Or had she?
Damn, he’d lost his train of thought. What had they been talking about? “You said you work in intelligence?”
“Yes.”
Pieces moved into place. An alternate explanation for her presence began to form. “It’s finally starting to make sense.”
“I don’t understand.”
“That’s why the government chose to send you here.”
“I told you why. While you are in Stockholm you are the target of an assassin.”
“And when did you first learn about this assassination plot?”
“Yesterday morning.”
“Yes, that’s when I was informed, as well.”
She shook her head. More strands of hair slid loose from her clip to brush the side of her face. “Dr. Lemay, why are you so skeptical? I would have thought that an intelligent man like you would have been grateful for our help.”
“It’s the timing that made me skeptical, Captain Fox. It’s too convenient. The government ‘discovered’ this threat to my life less than twelve hours after I refused their offer.”
“What offer?”
She sounded genuinely puzzled, he thought. Then again, what man would question anything she said in that smoky velvet voice of hers? He looked at the way her hair haloed her face, and he remembered the pleasure he’d felt when he’d held a lock between his fingers.
Was that another reason she’d been chosen for this mission?
The pleasure dissolved. He straightened up from the door frame and moved toward the sitting room window.
“Please, keep away from the window, Dr. Lemay. The curtains are closed, but the lamp casts your shadow on the fabric.”
He still didn’t have enough facts to form a definite conclusion, he reminded himself. He changed direction, crossing the room to the inlaid-walnut desk that held the suite’s fax machine and one of the telephones. He steepled his fingers on the desk’s glossy surface. “What do you know about my work, Captain Fox?”
“You research nuclear fusion.”
“My goal is to develop fusion power as an economically viable energy source.”
“Yes, I’m aware that you published a landmark paper on the subject several years ago, but you’ve kept your research confidential since then. That’s what you plan to speak about before the closing ceremonies on Saturday, isn’t it?”
“Correct.” He lifted his gaze to the mirror that hung on the wall beside the desk so he could watch her reflection. “Two days ago a representative from our government visited me at my lab in California. He requested that I continue my research under their supervision. All my results would be the exclusive property of the Department of Defense.”
She hesitated. “I wasn’t aware of that.”
“No?”
“No, sir. That information was not in any of the sources I accessed.”
“Don’t you find that odd?”
“Yes, it’s definitely odd. A fact like that should have been made available to me. You said you refused?”
“Yes. I turned them down. I gave them nothing.” He folded his arms over his chest and faced her. “Less than twelve hours later, they suddenly discovered someone wants to kill me. I find that odd, too.”
“What does that have to do with—” Her breath hissed out. “Surely you don’t think the government is trying to kill you simply because you wouldn’t work for them.”
“No. I don’t think anyone’s trying to kill me, especially not the government. They don’t want my death, they want my work.” He studied her face. “And what better way to get it than to place someone, say a bodyguard, in a position where they had a reason to stay with me night and day?”
“Dr. Lemay—”
“Even better, what if they sent a beautiful woman, one whose healing injury would arouse my sympathy? She would have unlimited opportunities to gather information. Not only about my work but about whom I associate with while I’m at this conference and what other offers I might receive.”
He watched her string the facts together. It didn’t take her long. He could see the exact moment she understood his point. Twin spots of color bloomed in her cheeks—he’d bet it wasn’t because he’d called her beautiful.
Her lips thinned. “You think I was sent here to spy on you.”
“Were you?”
Her jaw flexed, as if she were clenching her teeth. “My appearance, my sex and my physical condition are irrelevant. I am an officer in the United States Army. I am not a spy.”
“You’re not regular Army, you’re Delta Force. From what I’ve heard, you’re all trained in unconventional warfare. Your stealth and secrecy are legendary. You don’t play by the rules.”
“Sir—”
“In addition, you’ve admitted you’re an intelligence specialist. You’re trained to gather information.”
“Call my C.O.,” she said. “Major Redinger will confirm my orders. I am here to protect you.”
“But that’s the problem. Would he be telling me the truth, or only confirming the cover story you agreed on?”
The color in her cheeks deepened. Her knuckles whitened as she balled her hands into fists. “I didn’t risk my life by running through four lanes of traffic for the sake of a cover story, Dr. Lemay. And I didn’t knock you to the ground and add another bruise to my shoulder for show.”
