“Let’s check. I bet the three companies where Blake wasn’t on-site are the companies that had things stolen en route. Or maybe if we check further, we’ll find the people in charge of each cafeteria buy from Blake. Let’s look at the files again, then make some calls.”

  Forty minutes and a half-dozen phone calls later, Jon’s theory proved true. Two companies had Blake deliver foodstuffs. The one who had no connection to Blake had had their burglaries occur when the shipments were made.

  “This is what Tony must’ve stumbled across,” Jon said. His jaw clenched and his hand knotted into a fist. “Damn, why didn’t I think of this sooner? Tony and I had begun to check if any of these companies had some outside contractor, which wasn’t listed in the file, in common. He must’ve make the connection that ROSES was Blake Catering. That was how they could get into highly secure plants.”

  He stood and began to pace again. “But how did the mole know Tony had stumbled onto their secret?”

  “Did he call someone else besides you?” Lauren asked.

  Jon’s eyes darkened. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “Are you sure that it was the mole who killed Tony? Perhaps he called someone at Blake Catering, and that individual killed your partner.”

  He shook his head. “Tony wouldn’t have contacted anyone at Blake before he told me. So that leaves only the mole.”

  “Do you have any idea who the mole is?” Lauren regretted asking the question instantly. Jon’s expression turned fierce, yet there was an underlying emotion of pain that showed in his eyes.

  “No. Our traitor or his handler is very smart. After I had my accident, we tried several times to isolate who it was who betrayed me. We sent different people on missions and trips, then fed what was considered sensitive information through the London station. None of the information leaked.” He sat beside her. “We reassigned several people and fed information through their new assignments. Again nothing leaked.”

  Lauren placed her hand on his thigh. She wanted to say something to comfort him, but what?

  His hand covered hers. “I got this feeling that the mole is still in London. Wisely all the information that has been compromised over the last three years has had more than one source.”

  “Who are the people who are the same as when you were here?”

  “There are five. Johnson, Dewell, your friend Parker James, Stewart and Allen.”

  “I can’t believe that Parker would be involved in anything like this. Granted, he’s been a pest the last week or so. But he’s been such a good friend.”

  Cupping her chin, he raised her gaze to his. “Lauren, remember you didn’t have a clue to what I did.”

  She jerked her head away.

  “It would’ve been the perfect cover for Parker to keep an eye on you by striking up a friendship.”

  “Do you mean you don’t think he simply wanted to help me through a bad time? I wouldn’t be worth it?”

  “Of course you’d be worth it, but people in the spy field often don’t act on their true feelings. We’re experts at hiding our true motives.”

  All color left her face. He’d indicted himself again.

  “Dammit, you know what I mean.”

  “Yes, I do,” she answered quietly, turning her face away.

  “For that matter,” he whispered, “your ex-fiancé might also be a spy.”

  Lauren’s gaze flew to his, her eyes wide with the horror. Jon realized he’d uttered his thoughts out loud.

  Suddenly it occurred to Lauren that she’d been surrounded by a tight circle of spies. It was as if she were a lamb tied to a tree for the purpose of luring wolves out in the open so they could be killed. Bait. That’s all she was. Bait for the wolves.

  Lauren jumped to her feet, fighting the tears that clouded her vision. “Terrific. I’m surrounded by liars and cheats. And it looks like I’ve been used by every one of you.”

  Her barb hit its mark, because she saw the muscles of Jon’s jaw tighten.

  He stood and reached for her, but she stepped away from his touch. “Don’t.”

  She spun around and raced for the door. If she was in the room with Jon an instant longer, she knew she’d say something unforgivable.

  Chapter 12

  Jon collapsed back onto the couch. It was out of the question for him to try to run after her. Probably as mad as she was at the moment, she’d flatten him if he tried to get near her.

  Cradling his head in his hands, he cursed a vivid blue streak. He went through his vocabulary of choice words twice, then threw in every profanity he’d ever heard in a foreign language before his anger subsided enough for him to think clearly. When his mind began to function again, he heard Lauren’s words: I’m surrounded by liars and cheats. And it looks like I’ve been used by every one of you.

  The words were harder to endure than a beating with a steel pipe because he knew she had purposely included him in that disreputable bunch.

  “Think, Michaels,” he scolded himself. “You’re not going to do her any good by feeling sorry for yourself. Think and figure out what’s going on.”

  After divorcing—or trying to divorce—his feelings from the situation, he considered what she’d said. Did Lauren have a valid point? Had she been used? Had Parker befriended her simply to keep an eye on her? It made sense to Jon. Parker’s friendship with Lauren had never sat well with him, rather like trying to cram his size-eleven foot into a size-nine shoe.

  And what about Lauren’s fiancé, Donald thin-lipped Blake? How did he fit into this tidy little picture? Had Donald purposely set his sights on Lauren to keep her under surveillance? If he had, he was a bigger bastard than Jon thought. And if he had, Jon would make sure the man paid with a great deal of pain.

  Jon needed to question Lauren about how she’d met Donald Blake. Together maybe they could pick out the truth in this world of subterfuge.

  “Ah, sweetheart, it truly must seem like you’ve been used by every man in your life,” Jon murmured to the empty room.

  Although Jon hadn’t used her, his conscience was just as black as the other players in this nasty game. He hadn’t purposely dragged her into this ugly web, but she seemed to be at the center of it. And it was all attributable to her association with him.

  When he’d first appeared in Lauren’s apartment, Jon had had the feeling that he’d set something bad in motion. Time had proved that feeling right.

  Right now he had another dark premonition, that Lauren was slipping out of his hands. Her heart was drifting away from him. And if he didn’t do something quickly, she would be lost to him forever.

  * * *

  Lauren was so mad that she was surprised she didn’t leave a trail of fire behind her as she marched down the street.

  The whole lot of them were sorry so-and-sos, and if she never saw any of them again in this lifetime it would be too soon.

  Every cotton-picking one had used her. Everyone exception, her mind whispered.

  He might not have used her, but he was the reason she was in this fix. And she was more than willing to lay the responsibility at his feet. If he hadn’t been a spy doing his spy thing, her life wouldn’t be in the toilet at this moment.

  She stopped and took a deep, steadying breath. She couldn’t decide whether she wanted to scream out her anger at the top of her lungs or sit down on the sidewalk and bawl her eyes out. Tears began to cloud her vision. And although she wanted to vent her pain and rage, doing it here on the street in the sight of everyone and their Aunt Martha wasn’t exactly how she wanted to do it.

  Desperate to divert herself, she looked around. In front of her was a bakery. Malcomb and Sons. There was no better way, in her opinion, to soothe ruffled emotions than a good pastry. With a silent prayer of thanks, Lauren opened the bakery-shop door.

  After purchasing a half-dozen scones, Lauren walked to the park at the end of the street and sat on the wooden bench. Eagerly she opened the sack and pulled out a scone. With the first bite, she closed her eyes, savoring the buttery taste. If she had some strawberry jam, it would be perfect. Then at least there would be something in her life that was right.

  She shied away from that thought, not ready to deal with anything else besides eating at the moment. She was successful in keeping her mind blank while she downed the first scone. Halfway through the second, reality intruded.

  The prospect of Donald or his father being a spy was unbelievable. But what did she know? Her husband had been one, was one, and she hadn’t known.

  Wasn’t it ironic that she, who had a nearly obsessive dislike of lies and liars, was surrounded by men who perfected the art?

  You’ve managed to lie quite easily over the last few days, a voice in her head whispered.

  “But there hadn’t been a choice,” she answered. She hadn’t liked lying, but she had done it to protect Jon.

  It was still lying, Lauren.

  The revelation wasn’t appreciated.

  See how easy it was? Can you condemn Jon when you’ve done the same?

  Glancing at the peaceful park scene, the carpet of grass, bushes clipped into shapes of animals and trees sporting their autumn colors, Lauren wondered if she would ever again experience the feeling of calm that permeated this little corner of the world.

  Taking another bite of the scone, she tried to concentrate on the heavenly taste, but her mind kept chasing the troubling thoughts that had driven her from the room.

  Parker a spy?

  And perhaps Donald a spy, too?

  And she was the biggest fool walking the face of the planet.

  Maybe all this sinister thinking was wrong. Maybe Parker really had been concerned for her and wanted to help her through a tough time in her life. Maybe Donald had really liked her and wanted to marry her. And maybe the sky is green and there are fairies that roam the countryside.

  She swallowed the last piece of the scone, then stared at the white bakery sack in her lap. She’d bought six scones, intending to pig out. But no matter how many scones she ate, it wouldn’t change any of the circumstances of her life, and would only add inches to her hips.

  As she stood, Lauren considered throwing away the bag. Jon loves currant scones, a voice in her head whispered. Lauren reconsidered tossing the bag, but her heart immediately cast aside the petty thought.

  Clutching the sack, she started back to the Black Boot Inn. Her life had taken on a surreal quality in the past few days. How had she ended up in this mess?

  Well, no matter how she’d gotten here, she needed to face up to it. She wasn’t a coward.

  Jon looked out the window, searching the street for any signs of Lauren. Glancing at his watch, he noted it had been over an hour since she had stormed out of the room. If she didn’t show up in the next five minutes, he was going to go out looking for her.

  Into his line of vision walked the very woman who filled his thoughts. Lauren. She had just turned the corner and stopped, staring up at their room. He could just imagine the thoughts going through her brain. He didn’t wait to see if she walked away. Instead, he hurried out of the room and down the stairs.

  He cursed the stupid steps. He’d climbed enough of these torturous things in the past few days to last him a lifetime. When he reached the bottom, he came face-toface with Lauren.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “Out to get you. I didn’t know if you were coming back,” Jon said, relief flooding his body.

  “I considered leaving, but that wouldn’t have solved anything.” She shoved the bag at him. “Here.”

  “What’s this?” Curious, he opened it. “Currant scones.” He glanced up. “You bought these for me?”

  She didn’t say anything.

  Her gesture deeply touched him. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

  The endearment didn’t go down well.

  “Lauren, we need to talk about—things.”

  Her shoulders stiffened. “I know.”

  They stared at each other for a moment, then she started up the treads. The sight of her gently swaying hips hit him like an arrow from a crossbow.

  Keep your mind on the matter at hand, he told himself. Remember feelings and lust take a back seat to solving the problem. Reining in his desire, he followed her up the stairs.

  Once they were in the room, Lauren walked over to the window and stared out. Jon knew that this conversation was going to be hard, but from her stance, back board-straight, arms folded across her chest, he knew this was going to be harder than talking a Texan out of his boots.

  He joined her at the window. “Tell me how you met Donald Blake,” he asked, trying to keep his voice soft and mellow.

  Her brow arched. “Why do you want to know?”

  “I think it might help us to decide who in Blake Catering is working with the mole.”

  “You mean Parker?”

  His band rubbed over his mouth. “I don’t know. Parker’s looking more and more like our leak, but it will have to be checked out.”

  “How?”

  “Dammit, Lauren, let’s just stick to one jerk at a time. Let’s talk about Donald.”

  Her mouth pulled up into a tight pucker, and her eyes were flashing fire. Great, just what he needed, to annoy her.

  He opened his mouth to apologize, but before he could say anything, she spoke. “I’d gone to a restaurant convention in Liverpool. I was looking at commercial oveps, and Donald was looking at refrigerators in the next booth. We started up a conversation and found we had a lot in common. A couple of weeks later, he showed up at my restaurant and asked me out.”

  “Did he seem overly eager?”

  Her stony expression clearly told him that his question didn’t strike the chord he wanted.

  “What I mean is did anything seem odd or strike you as funny when Donald started asking you out—aside from the fact that he wanted to date you?”

  Her chin lowered and her gaze narrowed. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Ah, hell—” He threw up his hand. “You know what I mean.”

  “Yes, I know. There was nothing out of the ordinary. He didn’t take off his shoe and dial Control—he didn’t disappear beneath the floor of a telephone booth as Maxwell Smart used to in ‘Get Smart.’”

  He wanted to tell her this wasn’t the time for inane comments about old television shows and imaginary spies, but wisely he kept his thoughts to himself. She had enough to deal with at the moment.

  “Donald was simply a pleasant man whose company I’ve enjoyed.” She glanced at him as if he were a tree fungus. “And I think he enjoyed mine.”

  Touching her cheek, he murmured, “I know he did.”

  She turned her head away from his touch. Jon felt the loss as keenly as if she’d cut off his fingers.

  “Was there anyone else who made you feel uncomfortable or who seemed odd?”

  She didn’t answer right away, but considered his question. “Again nothing out of the ordinary. Donald’s father is a nice man and seemed to welcome me into their family.” Her fingers ran down the edge of the curtain. “You know the Blakes come from an old, moneyed family. Donald and his father went to all the right boarding schools, then attended Cambridge. They belong to the right clubs in London and travel in the right circles. Marshall, Donald’s father, decided he didn’t want to simply rest on the family’s name and money. So he did the unusual and went into business.”

  Jon wondered if Marshall’s noble gesture of working was born out of the fact that the family found itself out of cash.

  Unaware of his speculation, Lauren continued. “Both Donald and his father are a bit reserved. They don’t let their feelings hang out like Americans, but I didn’t expect anything else from them. In fact, I found their attitude comforting.”

  Her words startled her, and her gaze flew to his to see if he’d heard her last statement. Unwittingly she had handed him a key, and he wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass without using it.

  “What do you mean?” he softly asked.

  A mulish expression crossed her lovely face, then she looked out the window again.

  He brushed the back of his fingers across her cheek. “Tell me what you mean, sweetheart,” He pitched his voice low, wanting his tone to seduce her, wanting to pull her heart toward his.

  She wrapped her arms tighter around her waist but didn’t speak.

  Gently he cupped her chin, then slid his hand down her throat, his fingers spread wide. Under his middle finger and thumb, he could feel the rapid beat of her heart. He waited patiently, not moving a muscle and praying that his body would convince hers to yield.

  Her eyes fluttered closed, and a sigh slipped from her lips. “It means that I didn’t want to feel again the same earth-shattering passion I felt with you.” She didn’t open her eyes, but kept them closed. “I wanted something safe, something that wouldn’t tear me apart if it ended.” Her eyes opened. “And I was right. Breaking my engagement to Donald didn’t rock my world to its foundation.”

  It was damn selfish of him, but he was glad that she didn’t grieve over the breakup.

  “But haying you show up did.” He heard clearly the despair in her voice.

  Her words ripped through his heart like a chain saw through a tree. He leaned his cane against the wall and slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. She didn’t uncross her arms, which made it awkward to hold her, but he didn’t release her.

  “Ah, Lauren, I’m sorry. I would’ve stayed out of your life if I could’ve.”

  Her head jerked back, and her elbows came up hitting his arms. “What are you saying?” Her arms dropped to her sides.

  “That I didn’t mean to cause you pain.”

  Her eyes turned cold. “Are you telling me that if there hadn’t been the chance rumors that you were still alive would surface, you wouldn’t have ever bothered to contact me?”

  Her tone, icy to the point of bringing pain, told him that if he didn’t straighten out her misconceptions in the next few minutes, they wouldn’t have a future together.

  “No, that’s not what I meant at all. I would’ve waited until the mole was unmasked and it was safe for you.”

 

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