Undercover Husband Page 8

  “Let’s go in the study and find out who has upset you so much.”

  When Brit suddenly realized that her hands were still on his chest, a becoming red color suffused her cheeks. With a jerky motion, she stepped completely away from him. That gesture as much as anything, underlined the fact that she’d been making as earnest an effort as he had to keep their relationship on a professional basis.

  Without another word she headed for the study, then stood by as he turned on the recorder.

  Roman’s eyes closed tightly as Yuri’s voice filled the room.

  Yuri!

  Roman had forgotten to call him and explain. The one thing he’d left undone too long. But getting Brit out of immediate danger had been Roman’s first priority. There hadn’t been time yet, not with all the wedding arrangements to make...

  He let the tape play until he heard a terrified Brit beg him not to hang up. Lyle had told her to keep him on the line any way she could.

  Roman stopped the tape, then met her imploring gaze. “That was my brother.”

  “Yuri?” she whispered in shock. “But his voice—”

  “He sounded like Baird?”

  She shook her head uncertainly. “I don’t know. Denise and I ignored him whenever possible. It was only when he muttered something ugly that I noticed it at all. It was more the things your brother said. The way he said them. He called me Brittany. No one calls me that.”

  “It’s perfectly understandable. Even knowing it was my brother, I felt a chill when he asked you what kind of flowers you liked. The coincidence of his calling and saying the things he did about the roses, let alone the way he was teasing you like that, would have convinced anyone who didn’t know Yuri that Baird was on the other end of the line.”

  She buried her face in her hands, obviously trying to recapture her composure. Finally, “I thought no one in your family knew about this assignment.”

  “I thought so, too.”

  The cat’s out of the bag. That meant everyone in the family knew. Angela’s family knew. He’d have to call the operative over him in the CIA and fill him in.

  “Somebody at the office must have let it slip. It was probably Eric.”

  Eric, bilingual in German, was without a doubt one of the best P.I.s in the business. But he had a big mouth and was a worse tease than Yuri ever thought of being. That lily was a case in point.

  Eric and Roman’s brother had hit it off on Yuri’s first visit to Salt Lake. Since they met, Eric had been to New York twice to stay with Yuri and Jeannie.

  “I have an idea my brother called the office yesterday and happened to talk to Eric who was covering for Diana so she could come to the wedding. Eric would never discuss a case with anyone, not even Yuri. But I don’t put it past him to have told my brother that I was secretly married.” Roman could imagine the conversation.

  “I swear to the Almighty it’s true, Yurinska. Your babooshka’s little grandson, Romanov Lufkilovich, went and got himself an Amerikanish wife. Not a drop of Italian or Russian blood in her Ingleska veins. She’ll produce some fine little Russkies. One day soon you’ll have to come out here and we’ll all celebrate. Bring along a couple of bottles of our favorite Siberian vodka. Ja vohl?”

  Unfortunately, in all the funning and slaughtering of three languages, Eric had no way of knowing how his little joke had backfired on Brit, let alone how it had sent Roman’s heart into cardiac arrest when Lyle had called to tell Roman that Baird might have phoned Brit at the house.

  The hell of it was, because Brit had thought Yuri was Baird, she’d gone along with him to keep the conversation alive, never denying the reality of their marriage.

  If Yuri hadn’t been certain that Roman had married her when he’d first called, by the time he’d hung up the phone Brit’s comments would have convinced him otherwise. Toward the end of their conversation, Yuri had actually sounded repentant for giving Roman’s pretend-wife the third degree.

  Under any other circumstances, Roman might have found the situation funny, and at some point could have even laughed about it with the guys.

  But there was nothing remotely funny about this case, about Brit, or his own tortured thoughts where she was concerned. When he’d first come up with the idea of a fake ceremony, he’d been confident it was the right thing to do to get the job done. But that was before you met Brit.

  Roman had met dozens of appealing female clients and agents throughout his career in law enforcement and the CIA, but he’d never felt a physical and emotional attraction this powerful before. Granted Brit was a beautiful woman, but so were a lot of others. He couldn’t account for the fact that her mere presence would create this kind of havoc with his senses.

  Though there’d been several women in his life, Roman had always separated them from business. Certainly he considered the relationship between a P.I. and client sacrosanct, and had never once stepped out of bounds.

  Hell. He didn’t know how he was going to do it, but while he was waiting to catch Glen Baird, it was vital he regain his objectivity where Brit Langford was concerned.

  She stared at him with a horrified expression. “Your brother probably thinks our marriage is for real.”

  His body tautened in response.

  She’s having as much trouble as I am hiding her true feelings.

  “It is for real, as far as this assignment is concerned.” His voice grated. “Anything less could jeopardize this whole operation. Forget about Yuri. I’m headed for the office and will straighten things out with Eric and my brother. Are you going to be all right?”

  “Yes. Of course.”

  She was a valiant liar. Evidently she regretted breaking down in his arms moments ago. But not even she could be filled with as much regret as he for deciding to play the role of her husband. He’d put himself in a hole so deep, he had no idea how he was going to climb out!

  Four days ago he’d been positive it was the only thing to do.

  Taking a steadying breath he said, “I stopped by the post office. There was nothing in the delivery from Baird.” He started for the door, then stopped. “Enjoy your fan mail,” he added more curtly than he’d intended, but the knowledge that both their emotions were involved here made everything that much more complicated.

  Fan mail? Brit mused.

  Wounded by the abruptness of his tone and swift departure, she didn’t realize he’d disappeared out the front door before she could thank him for coming back to the house to allay her fears.

  With hindsight she realized that she’d made a fatal mistake when she’d rushed into his arms a little while ago. Anyone witnessing that scene could be forgiven for thinking she was his wife needing her husband’s comfort and protection.

  When Brit thought about it, she cringed over such impulsive behavior. No wonder he couldn’t get out of the house fast enough. He was a professional through and through, trying to do his job. She, on the other hand, was the besotted idiot who’d embarrassed him in front of one of his colleagues.

  What else could he do but run in the opposite direction.

  Shamed by her own unconscionable actions, she determined that she would never show her vulnerable side to him again. Never!

  Feeling at a loss because he’d gone, she took the small stack of letters sitting on the hall table and wandered into the study to read them.

  Knowing that Glen Baird hadn’t been the man on the phone earlier filled her with intense relief. But when she settled down to read the correspondence from several acquaintances who’d been on her tour, the pit in her stomach enlarged.

  It seemed that when Glen couldn’t get satisfaction from Alan and Maureen—her closest friends on the tour—he’d started harassing everyone else from their group who’d written down an address. Apparently everyone who’d heard from Glen was anxious to warn Brit that he was trying to make contact. He had to be furious that the tour group had closed ranks on him.

  When she thought about it, in the eyes of the law Glen Baird had done nothing more
than phone various people to get her number. Boys in high school had done the same thing.

  But none of them had remotely resembled the thirty-fiveyear-old misfit who reminded her of a railroad transient. Knowing he’d been calling people on the tour to get her phone number made her sick.

  More than ever she was thankful for Roman, for his fast thinking which had placed her out of harm’s way. No matter the outcome, she would never be able to repay him for what he’d already done, let alone for what he was prepared to do to protect her.

  Until Glen Baird was caught; the only thing for her to do was turn off her feelings and stay out of Roman’s way as much as she could.

  If you think you can do either one of those things, Brit, then you’ve completely lost your sanity.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “GOOD afternoon,” Diana greeted Roman as he let himself in the back door of his office. “How’s hubby today?” she teased.

  “Hubby would like to get his hands on Eric for letting my bogus marriage leak to Yuri.”

  “That sounds like something Eric would do. But I’m afraid you’ll have to wait. He’s in the surveillance van at your wife’s condo. Hey—you sound too grumpy for a man who just got married.”

  “Sorry, Diana. I think I’m tired.”

  “Really.”

  Though he’d done nothing wrong, her mischievous smile made him feel guilty.

  Because your thoughts aren’t innocent where Brit is concerned.

  “She’s lovely, Roman. Cal said he wouldn’t blame you if—”

  “I can just imagine what your husband said,” Roman interrupted her before she could finish.

  He didn’t mind her teasing. She was terrific and had been working for him almost from the beginning, giving him invaluable service when the time came to expand his business. Now she was the pivotal figure around which a dozen P.Ls functioned. Without her, the place would probably fall apart. But any mention of Brit and he snapped.

  “What’s new?”

  “Your reputation has grown to the point that you don’t want to know.”

  “You mean we have enough business to stay afloat another couple of months?”

  “Very funny, Roman. Actually, I’m putting in for a raise. I thought this would be a good time since you’re going to be in such a benevolent mood when you read all the faxes sitting on your desk.”

  “From whom?”

  “Oh, various and sundry law enforcement officers, police chiefs, detectives, governors, the U.S. Attorney General, all congratulating you on your work which led to the capture of the Moffat brothers. Do I pay homage to you now, or after you’ve read them?”

  Roman chuckled. “I should be getting down on my knees to you for keeping things running so well around the office. I couldn’t do without you.”

  “Sure you could, but a compliment like that is always nice to hear.”

  “I meant it. So—anything important I need to know about before I look over the caseload that has come in this week?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  “My brother hasn’t called, has he?”

  “No. But Chief Wilson phoned. I left his number on your desk.”

  Roman liked the chief a lot. He hadn’t been able to put their last conversation out of his mind.

  “Thanks for speaking to the academy this morning, Roman. We’ve never had someone of your caliber and experience who can fire them up the way you do. I’m proud to be in uniform today. Proud to have had the privilege of knowing you and working with you on the Moffat brothers case.”

  “That’s goes for me, too, Chief. They don’t come any finer than you. Whenever you and your wife want to get away, you have a standing invitation to stay at my house. The golf course is only a half mile down the road at the foot of Mount Olympus. You’ll swear you died and went to heaven.”

  “Better that way than in the line of duty, eh?”

  Roman’s features sobered. “Don’t let anything happen to you. Six more months and you’re home free, Chief.”

  “I was just about to say the same thing to you,” he murmured in a curiously gruff voice. “The trouble is, you’re only thirty-eight and deserve a long, happy, healthy life with a family and children. How come that hasn’t happened yet?”

  At the time, Roman had given him his stock answer that he was too busy to be a family man. Since working for the CIA, he never gave his personal life a serious thought. Until now.

  Lord, what was happening to him?

  “Well—if it isn’t the old married man!”

  Roman jerked around in time to see Cal come in the reception room and give his wife a resounding kiss. Finally he lifted his head, his eyes twinkling as he gazed at Roman. “Don’t tell me the honeymoon is over so soon?” he said with blatant irony.

  “I’m afraid it never happened.”

  “That’s why you’re so grumpy,” Diana teased.

  Cal chuckled, still holding on to his wife. “It’s been all over the news about the capture of the Moffat brothers. I knew you were the one responsible. I decided to drop by and take you out for a late lunch so I could hear the details.”

  Roman had an idea that Cal’s real motive was to hear more about Brit Langford. A taboo subject as far as Roman was concerned, if he wanted to keep his sanity.

  “There’s nothing I’d like more than to kick back with you two, but I’ve got some things to check out on the Baird case. However, you have my permission to take Diana for a meal. The three of us will get together later in the week for dinner.”

  “Don’t you mean the four of us?” His friend spoke up boldly.

  “No,” Roman bit out abruptly without realizing it until it was too late. “Sorry about that. But don’t even think it. She’s a client, nothing more. Besides, we’re supposed to be on our honeymoon. I’m supposed to be keeping her all to myself.”

  Cal’s brows lifted in silent query. “If you say so.”

  “I say so.”

  He clasped Roman’s shoulder in a firm grip, conveying the kind of warmth reserved for a brother. The feeling was mutual. “Let’s try to see each other before the week is ouL”

  It came to him that he had good friends here, that Salt Lake had truly become his home. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when it had happened. Maybe it took Cal dropping in unannounced to realize it. It felt good.

  The idea of having to uproot himself once more and move to South America when new orders came through from his superior was absolute anathema to him. He didn’t know if he could do it.

  After he saw Diana and Cal out the door, he went back to his office and started through the paperwork which took up the rest of his day. To his chagrin, he couldn’t seem to concentrate. Knowing Brit was at the house alone, he wanted to go home, keep her company, have dinner with her, spend the evening with her. Spend the night.

  You know what’s wrong. You enjoy her too damn much. That’s why you’re going to stay at the office till late and order yourself a pizza.

  After shoving himself away from his desk, he went to the kitchen and poured himself some coffee, then checked out the fax machine while he waited for Deke to report in on any news from the mobile unit. He was just on his way back to his office when he heard someone coming in through the front door.

  “Roman?”

  Deke had the instincts of a bloodhound, but he only sounded that excited when he’d found something really important.

  The adrenaline started pumping.

  “In here.”

  “Your hunch paid off. Eric found the maroon van with Wisconsin license plates at the hostel on West Capitol. But that’s not the best news!” He burst into the room carrying a duffel bag. “Oh, ho, baby! Do you know how to call ’em!”

  Always, Roman experienced the bitter with the sweet. Bitter because men like Glen Baird would continue to exist. Sweet because it felt so good to know his instincts hadn’t let him down, especially not on this case which had become the most important one he’d ever taken. But right now
he needed to avoid dwelling on the ramifications of that particular bit of self-discovery.

  “Oh, man, Roman. It’s all here. If we’d waited one more day, we’d have missed him. I’d like to patent your radar and retire.”

  Roman smiled grimly. “We owe Diana. She screened the initial call and sensed it was a hot one. Put the video in first. Then I’ll hear the audio.”

  Deke hunkered in front of the TV and VCR. Over his shoulder he said, “When we took down the cameras, we found a dead cat lying in the atrium, its neck rung. The audio picked up everything.”

  That was Baird.

  Roman felt as if he’d just been slugged in the midsection. Brit loved that cat. He wouldn’t tell her about it. Instead he would buy her a new one. If he couldn’t find an exact match, maybe he would look in the paper for a kitten for sale. Hopefully he could pass it off as one of Tiger’s offspring.

  “Baird left the west bedroom window open. His footprints were all over the place. The corner camera caught this as he was casing the side of the condo.”

  The full frontal view of the bearded man looking up at the bedroom window matched the pictures Brit had given him for identification purposes.

  Roman made a sound under his breath. “The man has a total disregard for anything or anyone who gets in his way.”

  Deke shook his head. “It was afternoon. The management could have walked in on him at any moment.”

  “A deviant of his magnitude has tunnel vision, and only runs with one agenda,” Roman muttered, watching some of the indoor scenes from the wireless camera hooked to the bedroom smoke alarm.

  His body went rigid as he imagined Baird surprising Brit while she slept. If she hadn’t come to him when she did...

  “Whose tailing him?”

  “Jon and Eric. They ought to be calling in pretty soon.”

  “Okay. Let’s hear the audio.”

  Deke was right. The tape caught the cat’s pitiful death cry, the sounds of someone in underbrush, then scraping noises and his grunt when he forced the window open. Next came Baird’s voice. “You knew I was coming. You’re smarter than the others—”