Dead Ringer (13 page)

"This is Angelina Montgomery," Finn said.

Straightening her shoulders, she took a breath and tried to steady her jittery heart.
Here we go, party girl
She turned around and stood.

Borian protested. "Please, don't get-" then swallowed the rest of his sentence.

She extended her hand with a smile, making it small and tentative, and looked up into a face that her mother must have looked into thousands of times. The slicked-back hair, slashing cheekbones, and deep-set eyes, so familiar from photographs, came alive with an intensity she hadn't expected. Age lines marred the corners of his eyes; he was easily fifty, maybe older, but still youthful and attractive-even if at the moment he looked like something had sucked the blood out of him.

Her mother's husband. The man she'd loved.

"I..." He wavered, and for a minute she thought he might collapse.

"You are all right, Mr. Borian?" A large man with a deep, accented voice and a military-style haircut leaped in to steady Borian.

"I'm all right, Grisha."

"You are sure?" He hovered like a worried parent, an odd role for a man massive as a tree trunk.

"Yes, fine. As you were."

"Da, tovarish."
The man called Grisha placed a metal briefcase on the floor near Borian, and as he did, Angelina's eyes met Finn's. No one had mentioned a Russian bodyguard.

Grisha retreated to the side, taking up a position where he could see the table clearly.

"Here, sit down." Finn pulled a chair out for Borian, and he sank into it "Friend of yours?" Finn nodded over to where Grisha stood at attention, hands crossed in front of him, gaze squarely on their table.

"My employee," Borian said, his attention drifting over to Angelina. "My driver."

Finn smiled amiably. "What does he drive, a tank?"

Borian turned back toward Finn, a slow movement as though he were reluctant to tear his gaze away from Angelina. "We live in a dangerous world, Mr. Ingram."

"Yes, we do," Finn said quietly, the smile dying out of his face. She knew he was thinking of Borian and how much more dangerous the world was with him and his nuclear goodies in it.

Meanwhile, Borian had returned to staring at her. His small eyes, unclear in the photographs, were a strange amber color. They fixed on her like a copperhead's, steady and penetrating, and she looked away, uneasy.

But not before she caught the gleam of victory in Finn's face.

"How about a drink?" Finn looked around for a waiter. "Some whiskey should put you to rights."

Borian shook his head. "I never drink. Alcohol is the crutch of a weak mind."

Great. Another puritan.

Before she could suggest a soft drink, Borian raised the metal briefcase his "driver" had left, and clicked it open. Foam lined the interior, cut out to hold a dark blue bottle stoppered with a cork, and three small juice glasses. If he hadn't just said he didn't drink, she might have thought the bottle a special wine reserve.

"I have this bottled from the streams on Eden's Gate, my ranch." He lifted out the bottle and snapped the case shut. "Pure, mountain water. No chemicals, no additives. No one has touched it but my own people."

He poured some into one of the glasses, handed it to her, and she took a dainty sip. Just like he said. Water. With a slight metallic, mineral taste, but definitely water.

"Delicious." She lied with a smile and handed the glass to Finn, but Borian intercepted it with a sober glance.

"Once you drink, your essence is in the glass. I'm sure you wouldn't want to give that away."

Another glance exchanged with Finn. No one had mentioned Borian was nuts, either. At least, not in this way. "No, of course not."

Borian poured water into the remaining glasses, handed one to Finn, and drank from the other. He savored the taste, rolling it around his mouth before swallowing. He did this while his intense gaze burned her cheek.

"Did I see you this afternoon at the Saddle House?" Borian asked abruptly.

Her heart leaped. Had they gone too far? Was he suspicious?

She turned to Finn, all innocence. "Is that where you took me for lunch?"

Finn nodded. "Best steak sandwich in Helena," he said.

"If you eat steak," Victor Borian said, still studying her. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Well, I didn't have steak, but lunch was very good." In fact she was so keyed up she could hardly remember what she'd eaten.
Where are we going with this, Victor?

"You are visiting?"

Ah, interrogation. "Angelina is a guest of the governor's," Finn said.

"A guest. How nice. From where, Miss Montgomery, if I may ask?"

Heaven, Victor. Straight from heaven. "Oh, please, you must call me Angelina. And I'm from a small town in East Texas. Why?" She made her voice soft and feminine, with a trace of her childhood. Carol Borian had been a southern belle and Angelina tried to sound as much like her as possible. Besides, men liked the southern touch, and she was there to please.

He gave her a shaky laugh. "You ... you look like someone I used to know."

Do I?
She put a hand on his arm, gentle and comforting. "I hope it was a good someone."

Nodding, he licked his lips. "Yes, yes it was." He cleared his throat, looking as though he wanted to clear the room of mist. Or ghosts. "And how did you get from East Texas to Montana?"

She laughed prettily, silently reviewing their cover story. "By way of Memphis, where I live. I'm interested in how development affects land use, and I met Stephen at a conference there. He works for the governor and wangled an invitation for me." She gave Finn a wry smile. "I'm afraid he's stuck with me now, though."

"You know it's my pleasure," Finn said.

"I don't think escorting me around is top of your list for a Friday evening."

"Nonsense," Victor Borian said. "How could he not enjoy the company of such a beautiful woman?"

She blushed. At least she hoped she blushed.

"In fact, why don't I take her off your hands, Mr. Ingram?" He gave her a brief, courtly bow. "Would you like to dance?"

That didn't take long.
She slipped her hand into Bo-rian's, trying hard not to recoil at his touch. "I'd love to."

Finn watched them move toward the dance floor. Bo-rian hovered over Angelina like a mad scientist huddling over his creation. A protective arm around her, he guided her through the crowd, deep-set eyes riveted to her face as though afraid she'd disappear the moment he stopped looking at her.

It was like that for the rest of the evening. She couldn't pry herself away for more than five minutes, and those she spent in the ladies' room with Borian waiting outside. To add to the confinement, the hulking mass of ever-watchful Grisha loomed close at all times. Finn couldn't get a single private word with her all night, and it made him tense with uneasiness.

Hours later, he slumped against the wall of the Civic Center ballroom while Borian and Angelina danced, one of the half-dozen couples still moving to the music.

How much longer would he have to expose Angelina to Borian without getting a damn thing in return?

But he was getting something, he reminded himself. A slow, careful seduction. That's what he recruited her for, and from what he could tell, she was delivering. She glided gracefully in Borian's arms, her head bent toward him in a gesture as submissive as Finn knew she was not.

He closed his eyes, remembering what it had been like to hold Suzy, to look in her lying eyes and tell himself he saw love. For a moment, the scar over that old wound gaped open as though the bullet that had shattered his hip had slammed into him all over again. The ghost pain in his leg throbbed and he moved to the table to sit down, imprisoning the memories with a brutal twist of will. Angelina wasn't Suzy; if she were, this whole job would have been over before it began.

But that didn't mean she was a paragon either. Too bad knowing he couldn't trust a thing she did didn't make him want her any less.

Or make him worry less about what could happen to her.

He stifled the urge toward protectiveness, telling himself he'd feel the same with any undercover operative on his team. But then he glanced back at the couple on the dance floor, and team spirit warped into something more primitive. Borian's arms encircled Angelina's smooth shoulders and his lips skimmed the soft, tender skin at her ear. She tilted her head up, smiling that dazzling smile at him, and a stab of jealousy cut into Finn.

From the dance floor, Angelina saw Finn push away from the wall and drift over to their table. He was scowling. What the hell was he scowling about? Things were going swimmingly. Borian had stuck like glue to her all night. What more did Finn want?

As though reading her mind, Victor said, "You know Mr. Ingram well?" His gaze followed Finn, as hers had done, and her heart froze. Did he know why she was there? Had she given herself away already?

"Stephen? Not really. We met at the conference and as I said, I twisted his arm to get an invitation from the governor. That's all."

"Ah. A political relationship." His voice held a trace of irony.

"You could put it that way."

"I think Mr. Ingram would put it quite differently. He doesn't seem happy with the way I've been monopolizing you all night."

That's where you're wrong, Victor.
"I'm sure he's oblivious. I'm told he's quite the catch and baby-sitting me has probably put a crimp in his style." Afraid he would pursue the topic, she searched for a change of subject. She looked around the ballroom, felt his hand on her back, firm and proprietary as he waltzed her over the dance floor. "It's lovely here. Have you always lived in this part of the world?"

"Regrettably, no. It was a favorite of my wife's. I bought the ranch for her and we visited during the summer. When she fell ill, we moved here permanently. She died several years ago and I couldn't bring myself to leave."

His wife. My mother.
Her skin tingled with anticipation. "I'm sorry."

"Yes, it is a great tragedy to lose someone you love."

"Tell me about her. What was she like?" She held her breath, heartbeat ratcheting upward. This was why she was here, why she'd agreed to this whole sorry idea-to discover some small scrap of insight into the woman she longed to know and never would.

"Lovely. Like you, in fact."

"Me?" She feigned astonishment.

"Yes, you remind me a great deal of her."

She tried to look flustered. "I'm... I'm flattered. How odd."

"Yes. I was thinking the same. Odd. Or... providential." His gaze fixed on her like a laser and she looked down, as much to retreat from his burning eyes as to appear shy and demur.

"Why did she like Montana so much?"

"Have you ever seen the moon creep over the mountains?" His voice dropped to a whisper, his breath a hot breeze over her ear. A finger of disquiet trickled down her spine. "It's like a glimpse of paradise. God knew what he was doing when he made the Rocky Mountains."

She swallowed. He was so close. Too close.
Don't lose it now, party girl.
"It must be quite a sight."

"It is."

"I'd ... I'd love to see it."

"Would you?" Borian pulled away and brought the full weight of his amber gaze on her again.

She flushed. Had she moved too quickly? Her pulse quickened in fear and in something else. Something a lot like excitement. Like driving too fast. The speed exhilarating, but also terrifying. Would she crash? Or would she beat the odds one more time? She gazed up at Victor, adrenaline shooting through her veins like a high-voltage current.

"I'm here to study land use. Stephen"-she glanced across the room at Finn-"has been ordered to show me around. I hope your ranch is on his list."

The corners of Victor's mouth curled slightly. "Oh, I doubt it. But perhaps we can do something about that."

A surge of triumph pumped through her blood as the music ended. Victor guided her to the table, and it was all she could do not to shout out loud.

Finn watched them approach, a glass of ginger ale passing for the scotch he would dearly love to be drinking. He straightened as they came, watching Angelina's face for signs of how she was holding up. A small part of him wished she would crack under the pressure. If she folded like he hoped, he could end the masquerade before she went deeper into an alien identity, where she might lose herself. And deeper into Borian's territory, where she might screw up and get hurt.

But she was clear-eyed as she approached, and beneath the outward calm, he sensed an edge, a brittle excitement he hadn't seen before.

She was enjoying this.

The realization sent a wave of surprise through him. He knew how she felt because he'd felt it himself. The thrill of the hunt, like going into battle. Fear and excitement rolled into one. But recognizing the feeling only set his antenna humming. An inexperienced hunter alone in hostile terrain made mistakes. And mistakes were something he couldn't afford, not with nuclear disaster at stake.

"Angelina is tired," Borian said, clearly unaware of what Finn had sensed. "I'm going to take her back to the hotel."

"Please stay if you like," she said to Finn in a soft, docile voice so unlike the woman he knew.

"Are you sure?" Finn didn't like leaving her alone with Borian, liked it even less that he cared.

"I'll be fine."

"All right. I'll see you in the morning."

He waited for them to head for the ballroom doorway before following. Mike and Jack caught up with him, Mike wheeling a cart of dishes, Jack carrying a bundle of rumpled linen. For a few seconds all three of them were within speaking distance.

"He's taking her home." Finn spoke in an undertone, not breaking his stride. "I'll bring the tape to CP in an hour."

The two men nodded and split off in different directions, while Finn continued out the door. The three of them had already arranged for the car to be parked at a side entrance, just in case Borian left with Angelina. Finn headed that way, knowing he'd have a few minutes lead on Borian, who would have to wait for the valet to get his car.