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  First approached by the CIA because of his linguistic skills the previous year, he’d reluctantly agreed to help out the NATO effort. He’d dutifully performed his job, not begrudging the long, tedious hours listening to intercepts and translating for the intelligence agencies. But he’d never agreed to team up with an executioner. So Sayonara, he’d said to Harry that day in Kosovo. I hope you rot in hell.

  Christ, the lake was peaceful in the morning.

  It almost made one forget the brutality of people like Harry.

  Almost . . .

  Slipping his paddle under the center thwart, he leaned back on the mahogany gunwales he’d cut, boiled, varnished, and screwed into place all those years ago before he’d become a cynic. When he’d still thought the world was full of hope.

  When his body hadn’t been held together with steel pins.

  When he wasn’t always looking over his shoulder.

  Shit.

  So he’d run into bad luck, bad karma—whatever—it wasn’t going away.

  Now then, if Harry made a move on him, how exactly would he kill him?>

  Seven

  “Where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you for over an hour.” It was a rhetorical question; Joe didn’t get a chance to answer. “You won’t believe who came to buy me off,” Zoe indignantly rapped out.

  “Let me guess,” Joe said, a smile in his voice. “Does the last name begin with a W?”

  “Can you freaking believe it?”

  “Darling, don’t be so naive. Why wouldn’t they try to buy you off? You’re about to screw up their lives and more to the point, screw with their precious collection.”

  “I told them no, of course.”

  “They’ll be back with a better offer. Willerby can buy off God.”

  “I don’t want to be bought off.”

  “I know. But people like Willerby think everyone has their price. Seriously, though, he’s not above other means if money doesn’t work. I wonder if you should get out of there.”

  “Jesus, Joe! Don’t say things like that! This isn’t a movie. This is me you’re talking to. You’re not suggesting that Bill Willerby might actually harm me, are you?”

  “It’s a possibility. Men like him don’t make the kind of money he’s made by playing nice. He travels with bodyguards for a reason.”

  “Jeez, now you tell me.”

  “So would you have given up your book project if I’d told you before?” Joe asked, drily.

  “Okay, okay. So maybe I’ll get a bodyguard, too. Christ, how do you do something like that? Look one up in the Yellow Pages?”

  “You won’t find any agencies in that little burg you’re in. It might be wise to go back to the Twin Cities. You’ll find security agencies there. Although with this Iraq stuff going on and the big money in the Middle East, the security firms are struggling to fill their ranks.”

  “Actually,” Zoe murmured, “I might have someone here who would fit the bill.”

  “Then go for it. I don’t want to alarm you, but it wouldn’t hurt to be cautious, at least until your publisher has your manuscript. Willerby could be notified at that point and then he’d have to deal with bigger fry than you. If there’s really some dude up there who could watch your back, hire him. Otherwise, you’d better head back home.”

  “You’re sounding way too ominous, Joe.”

  “You know how many objects in Willerby’s collection are pirated. Even more than we thought. The guy has a lot to lose. Do not take any chances.”

  Zoe softly sighed. “Remind me to stay away from billionaires next time I take on a project.”

  “You blew me off when I mentioned it, babe, if you recall. Is this where I say, ‘I told you so’?”

  “You’re right—you’re right. I was wrong. But not to worry, I’ll deal with it. This guy next door looks like he could stop a Mack truck. I’ll talk to him.”

  Zoe’s audacity always amazed Joe; she wasn’t easily intimidated. Maybe it had to do with being raised in the Amazon by parents who were studying indigenous tribal cultures. She’d learned to cope with unusual situations. “Let me know whether you stay there or head back home,” Joe said. “And I’d suggest moving quickly on this. If Willerby sent out two representatives from New York, right now they’re back in their hotel room asking him for further instructions.”

  “Cripes,” Zoe muttered. “And I was looking forward to a peaceful summer at the lake.”

  “Then maybe you should think about some other line of work.”

  “If I was looking for sarcasm, sweetie, I’d call my ex, who by the way just married his third wife.”

  “There’ll be more,” Joe bluntly noted. “It doesn’t matter I hope.”

  “God no . . . Max is ancient history.”

  “Then first things first. Get yourself some defense or pack up and drive back to the Cities. Consider this my professional opinion.”

  His stern tone of voice was not to be ignored. “Yes, sir, right away, sir.”

  “Cute. Now go do it—talk to your Mack truck. Call me back and let me know if he said yes or no.”

  Eight

  Having come up with contingency plans in what passed for his therapist’s office out on the lake, Nick was nearing his dock when he heard the sound of the alarm going off behind his cabin. Driving his paddle deep into the water for a surge of speed, he gave Harry points for not wasting any time. The instant his canoe slid alongside the cedar pilings of the dock, he jumped out, secured the craft with a quick knot on the mooring ring, then ran full out toward the noise.

  The entire perimeter of his cabin was booby-trapped—a skill he’d picked up in the Balkans, where walking into a village was a tricky affair. Everyone had had to stay alert for that hair-thin wire attached to a grenade behind a door, or a stack of strategically placed debris blocking a path, or a thousand other traps that could be devised by the human mind. After having searched the seventeenth village, the team he’d been with had become textbook proficient. There wasn’t a crawl space or attic or barn loft that hadn’t offered up a quick trip to the grave for the unwary. He still couldn’t enter his house without automatically ticking off his safety list.

  He saw her before she saw him. But then that was the point.

  She must have come through the woods because she’d stopped just west of his cabin when the alarm had gone off. She didn’t have that deer-in-the-headlights look he’d expected— which was not reassuring.

  But time enough to brand her as Harry’s proxy when he had all the facts.

  Or—realistically if he was dealing with Harry—some of the facts.

  Slipping his combat knife back into its sheath, he silently circled around, approached her from behind, and disengaged the trip wire to the alarm.

  She spun around as the blaring stopped. “How did I set off your car alarm from here?”

  Her gaze was direct: not assertive, just straight and unswerving, as though someone had taught her to look people in the eye. “That damned thing goes off at the weirdest times,” he said with a polite smile. He’d deliberately chosen a sound that wouldn’t cause undue comment, although no one had set off his alarm before. “Most people come down the driveway,” he added, watching her closely for her answer.

  “I took the lazy person’s way. Sorry.”

  No blink, no twitch. Nothing. “Not a problem,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

  His voice was flat; he so obviously didn’t want to know what he could do for her that Zoe blushed. “I probably shouldn’t have come.” Her lashes drifted downward in embarrassment for a millisecond before she met his gaze once again and, taking a breath, said in a spilling-the-beans rush, “Actually, I have a problem I thought you might be able to help me with.”

  His first irreverent thought was, if it was about sex he was onboard. She was wearing green shorts today, not pink, but they were just as sexy. “I’m not much of a problem solver,” he murmured, not about to fall for the world’s oldest lure, no matter h
ow tempting. Although, he had to admit, he preferred seeing her rather than one of Harry’s gorillas.

  “I understand. Janie said you like your privacy—”

  “She did, did she? What else did she say?”

  His unexpected smile—the first real smile she’d seen from him—encouraged her. She quickly plunged on. “Knowing I’d rented the Skubic place, Janie mentioned you were my neighbor. She spoke of you in the most exemplary way,” Zoe tactfully added.

  “She must be a good liar,” he said, looking amused. “Now, tell me what you want. I’ll listen at least.”

  That didn’t sound like a man willing to help her. “I wish I could say I’d come over for a cup of sugar, but it’s more complicated.”

  “Isn’t everything,” he drawled.

  It was as though he had his drawbridge up permanently. Not only his words—his body language was also defensive. Even his T-shirt, emblazoned with the cartoon image of Yosemite Sam, literally read, “BACK OFF.” But he was indeed brawny and large, and in her present predicament, she needed that sizeable power. Along with that lethal-looking knife hanging from his belt. “It’s sort of a long story,” she murmured, glancing toward his cabin.

  He should have said, “Come in, sit down, tell me,” but he didn’t because Harry might have sent her. “I’ve got plenty of time,” he said instead.

  “Would you mind if we sat over there?” Zoe pointed at a yellow metal glider set under some birch trees.

  He hesitated for a fraction of a second, his first reaction negative. But then he thought, What the hell—even if she is some fucking black belt, I should be able to take her. “Sure, why not.” He waved her forward.

  Sitting down a moment later, she gave herself a push and smiled up at him. “I haven’t swung on a glider since I was a kid.”

  “Be my guest.” He stood a short distance away, his expression shuttered.

  “You’re pretty off-putting, you know.”

  “Years of practice.”

  “Why?”

  His gaze turned cool. “I didn’t ask you to come over.”

  “Forgive me. I’m way out of line. I’m really sorry.”

  Having translated for more interrogations than he’d ever wished to, he had a pretty good sense of when someone was lying. That was fucking genuine. Against his better judgment, against all the rules of personal engagement he’d adhered to for the past few years, he heard himself say, “I should apologize for my rudeness. I don’t have much company; I’m afraid it shows. Tell me about your complicated problem.”

  “Are you going to keep standing there?”

  “I don’t have to, I guess.” He sat down beside her, but he carefully maintained his distance.

  He smells delicious, she thought, the combination of pine woods and peppermint bizarre on a man so intensely male. “Nice cologne,” she said because she couldn’t help herself. “You smell of peppermint.”

  You smell of fresh sheets and apple blossoms, he thought. “I carry them in my pocket.” He tapped the pocket of his cargo shorts. “Want one?”

  “Not right now.” She smiled faintly. “You know—a man who eats peppermints can’t be too dangerous.”

  His dark gaze was assessing. “Who said I was dangerous?”

  “No one. You just look like you could deal with trouble— you know . . . you’re so big and strong and intense.”

  Her answer was casual enough, but maybe she was good at what she did. Enough small talk, he decided. “I have to ask you something,” he pointedly interjected, his voice taking on an edge. “Where are you from?”

  “I live out East now, but mostly I was raised in the Amazon. My grandparents had a cabin near White Fish dam, though; I spent my summers in Ely.” She grinned. “Does that pass muster?”

  “Not exactly,” he said, clipped and cool. “Give me your story on the men on your dock. I’d appreciate the truth if that’s possible.”

  Her eyes widened. “You saw them then. Believe me, I’d be more than happy to tell you the truth. In fact, I came over to tell you about them and ask for your help.”

  He didn’t answer. He just nodded, his dark gaze basilisk.

  “You’re a suspicious man,” she murmured, suddenly not entirely sure Janie’s benign view of Nick Mirovic was applicable. As he scowled at her, she was becoming less sure by the second that she’d made the right decision in coming over.

  “I have reason to be.”

  His gruff statement sent an unwanted chill up her spine. His size and strength suddenly took on an ominous quality. “I may have made a mistake coming over. My problems are really none of your concern,” she murmured. She leaned forward slightly as though to rise.

  Putting his arm out, he checked her movement. “Stay,” he mildly said. “I won’t bite.” Her fingers had been laced tightly in her lap, her knuckles still white from the pressure. Either she was a great actress or genuinely frightened. Going with his gut, he offered her a warm smile. “Look, if I can’t help you, I know everyone in town. Maybe I could suggest someone else. I have my own problems right now, so I’m probably more on edge than usual.”

  A smile like his could effectively thaw the Arctic ice cap. Her apprehension instantly melted away. “Maybe Lucy Chenko could help you out,” she quipped.

  He did a quick double take.

  “Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” she said with a grin. “You know gossip in small towns. I hear she’s your release valve.”

  He gave her a considering look from under his lashes. “For the record—not just mine.”

  “I’m not in the least judgmental.”

  “I’m relieved,” he drawled. “Are we done with this subject?”

  “Absolutely. I apologize for even mentioning it, but you looked so approachable suddenly, I guess I lost my head.”

  Talk about smiles that made one approachable. He found himself wondering whether she was into sex with strangers. A new phenomenon for him of late—that feeling of instant lust. But there was something about this long-legged blonde that rang all his bells. Then again, he wasn’t sixteen, nor was this a particularly good time to strike up a new friendship, with Harry possibly breathing down his neck. Dragging himself back to reality, he said briskly, “Tell me what’s up. Maybe I can help solve your problem.”

  Zoe explained about her book, Joe’s recent discoveries, and the two men who had accosted her on her dock. “According to Joe, Bill Willerby isn’t above ruthless tactics with his collection in jeopardy. Joe suggested it might be prudent to find myself a bodyguard. Since I’d prefer staying at the lake until I finish my book, I thought of you. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind being my security detail for a few weeks. I’d be happy to pay whatever you’d like.”

  Man—that was one plausible story line, and if he wasn’t thinking about losing himself in the Canadian wilderness until this mess with Harry was resolved, he might have been willing to play along with her—true story or not. He could have had some really fine sex—at least for the duration.

  On the other hand, his outpost in Ontario would be a helluva lot more peaceful without her. Sure, he wouldn’t have the sex, but then again, he wouldn’t have to go without sleep wondering if she was going to slit his throat at night. “Like I said,” he murmured, “I’ve got some issues of my own that are likely to take me farther north into the bush for a while. Maybe my cousin, Tony, could help you out. He’s a pretty big guy, too.”

  Her eyes lit up. “How far up north?”

  “Pretty far.” No way was he going to tell her where.

  “What do you think of me going with you?” she impetuously asked, sitting up a little straighter and holding his gaze, her voice animated. “I wouldn’t be in your way for long. My manuscript should be in good shape in the not too distant future and Joe says once I send it to my publisher, Willerby won’t be able to pressure me.”

  “Sorry. You don’t know me. I don’t know you. This is a private trip.”

  “I promise not to bother you at all,” she said i
n a rush, a note of pleading in her voice. “I know how to live rough. I’d bring my own supplies. You wouldn’t even know I was around.”

  Now that was highly unlikely. Although, he had to admit, it was damned tempting to bring her along. “Tempting, but no,” he murmured, pretty sure even great sex wouldn’t compensate for a knife in his back.

  “Please, pretty please . . .” Suddenly, the perfect solution to her problems had materialized. Far, far up north was an excellent escape destination. Having been raised in the Amazon, the wilds, whether north or south, didn’t matter to her. “Come on,” she begged, lightly touching his arm. “I’d be ever so grateful. Really, really grateful.”

  His carnal impulses were translating that gratitude into lurid possibilities. Not to mention, the tactile sensation of her fingertips on his skin was seriously revving up his lust. Which made sound decision making difficult. But if there was ever a time when clear thinking was required, when intemperate desire was patently inadvisable, when even considering her lying beneath him and begging for sex was supremely wrong—this was the time. “There’s no electricity up there,” he said in deterrence. But even as he spoke, he knew he should have said, unequivocally, no.

  And he also knew why he hadn’t.

  “I’ll bring extra batteries for my laptop.”

  He had a generator so she wouldn’t actually need extra batteries, but having reined in his lust, he didn’t mention it. “It could be dangerous. Seriously, there might be some people after me as well as you.”

  “Then, it’s perfect! Don’t you see—we could help each other. I can shoot a gun, whether for food or for—whatever,” she said, so matter-of-factly the hairs on the back of his neck came to attention.

  “I’m not sure I care to trust you with a gun.”

  Her emerald green eyes flared wide. “You think I’m involved with the people after you.”

  Involved—there was a tame word for Harry’s motives. More important, why wasn’t she concerned that he might have people after him? “I don’t know if you’re involved or not,” he bluntly replied. “And I don’t care to find out.”