Golden Threads (12 page)

"I don't think that's it. I think you saw or heard something that you just didn't take in at the time."

"What?"

He looked at her gravely. "We can try to find out.
If you can bear to relive that night."

"Hypnosis?"

"No, something similar.
The mind retains everything, but sometimes you have to take it step by step through an experience in order to remember."

Step by step... Lara remembered telling Devon about that night, remembered the pain she'd felt. And everything inside her shied away from confronting those memories again. In the blur of images, all she could see clearly was her father's body.

She shook her head. "No. I—I can't. Not now, Devon, please. Not yet."

His arm tightened around her.
"All right.
But you'll have to face it sooner or later."

Lara forced lightness into her voice. "Not if we catch my would-be assassin."

"They sent a pro, Lara; you can be sure of that."

"Meaning that he won't be caught so easily?" She sighed. "I assumed as much. But so far his attempts have been at a distance and haven't involved guns.
The truck, my car.
If he's just trying to scare me—"

"In both cases, you could have been killed."

Lara thought about it,
then
began musing aloud. "Either he was following me that first night, or he knew where I'd be. He could have gotten to my car any time, I guess; but how did he know when the apartment would be empty long enough for him to search it?"

Devon gave her an odd look. "You were ready to think I was the man; hasn't it occurred to you that several other people entered your life at the same time you met me?
People who are also involved in the play, who know where you are every night, where your car's parked."

After a long moment she said, "You think
it's
Luke."

"I think it could be."

Lara tried a laugh that didn't quite come off. "But he's funny, charming. He's not a killer."

"Honey, the most charming man I ever met was an international assassin."

"I just can't believe it."

He drew a short breath,
then
said softly, "He told you I was watching this building yesterday at dawn."

"Yes."

"How did he know it was your building?"

Lara didn't want to believe it. She liked Luke, and facing the possibility that he could be trying to kill her was both difficult and chilling. "Nick has my address. Luke could have asked him about it."

"Yes. He could have. He's been interested in you from the first night." Devon sighed. "Maybe it's that innocent. And maybe he's just a talented carpenter moonlighting at a community theater."

"But?" she prompted, knowing there was more.

Devon was trying to keep his mind on business, and it wasn't easy. Despite the deadly situation surrounding Lara, memories of holding her in his arms kept distracting him as if it had been days instead of only hours since he had held her. It was an unexpected reaction, and his realization that their lovemaking had only added fuel to an already raging fire was more than a little unnerving.

That had never happened to him before. He wrenched his mind back to the most vital subject, refusing himself the luxury of exploring his own confusion.

"But.
He's new in town and staying at a hotel. His regular job is a recent one, and the builder who hired him knows nothing about him except that he's skilled in the work. He doesn't seem to have a past, at least none that we could find; the car he drives is registered in his name, but the address is a post office box in California."

"California? He said that he was something of a gypsy at the moment." Lara shook her head. "But he is a skilled carpenter; would an assassin be able to fake that?"

"Who says he'd have to? Maybe it's his hobby. It isn't that unlikely. Lara, many paid killers lead perfectly normal lives most of the time. They command a high wage and often accept no more than three or four assignments in any given year. Some collect art or run legitimate businesses. As a general rule, the only traits assassins must have are the ability to consider murder just a job to be done and the detachment to do the job."

Devon watched her intently, wishing that he could insulate her from some realities that most people were never aware of. But he couldn't. She had to know for her own protection. He watched the acceptance of hard realities show on her delicate face, and it hurt him that she had to consider the motives and abilities of paid killers.

Lara shivered.

"Sorry, but you need to know." He forced a smile and held his voice steady. "Killers aren't all steely-eyed
machines,
or monsters with hate burning inside. You've probably passed a few on the streets with no more than a glance."

She was silent for a moment, then nodded. "Okay. Accepting the possibility that it could be Luke—has he guessed who you are, or was his warning just meant to keep a man from becoming inconveniently involved with me?"

"Good question." Devon frowned slightly. "If he is the one, we have to assume he's on to me—just to play it safe. But, at the same time, I can't understand why he'd warn you if he thinks I'm an agent; there was every chance you'd tell me about the warning, and that would focus my attention on him— and it did, even though I was suspicious before. Suspicious but more than a little surprised. I didn't expect the cartel's man to be directly on the scene with you, not at first."

"Why not?"

"Because it breaks the usual pattern."
He hesitated,
then
said carefully, "Assassins don't generally get close to their potential victims, and we have to assume he's just that. Men who'd be involved in something like the cartel would see a threat—and eliminate it immediately. They'd send someone to get rid of the threat and not waste time with scare tactics."

"But they did this time." Lara tried to think it through. "So they must be very sure that evidence against them did exist, and at least reasonably sure that I know something. They sent someone to try for the information, at least as a first step. But why didn't they just—" She swallowed, unable to complete the chilling thought.

She didn't have to. Devon reached for her hand and held it gently. He didn't complete her question, but he did answer it in a quiet voice.

"They could have had you kidnapped, but that kind of action always leaves a trail, especially when the victim is in the witness protection program and under at least periodic observation. And they couldn't count on making you talk, no matter what methods they used; there's no such thing as a foolproof way to get information. It's been months, and they know you haven't talked to us or we would have moved against them. They must figure that either you have a very good reason for keeping quiet—and they may be afraid of blackmail—or you quite honestly don't know that you know something."

"Then why try to make me panic?"

"Self-preservation," Devon answered promptly. "On your part, I mean, as well as theirs. They're using a method least risky to them in the event that you know nothing, and a method that could very well work. Lara, the human mind is an amazing thing. Mental blocks exist because of pain or shock or an unwillingness to face something, but let the mind realize that a block is endangering you, and the chances are good that the walls will come down in a hurry."

She stared at him. "It hasn't worked."

"That's why I don't think it's a block."

"You believe it's something I didn't notice at the time."

"Right.
If you'd either deliberately or unconsciously blocked something out, I think you would have known it by now."

"Do you think they realize that?"

"Whether or not they do, I believe they're too uneasy about your father's evidence to take the chance of removing you without making certain. Think about it, Lara. Suppose the cartel believes you're staying quiet for your own safety. If you did indeed have that evidence, it'd be a damned good insurance policy."

"You mean, I'd think they wouldn't bother me so long as I had something to hold over them?
Something to bargain with?"

"Exactly."

Lara was silent for a moment, allowing that idea to reach a logical conclusion. "Then we have to use that."

Devon knew what she meant, she could see it in his eyes, but he asked anyway. "Use it how?"

It was her love and understanding of Devon rather than thoughts of herself that made Lara consider her next words carefully before speaking. She knew, without a single doubt, that despite his training and responsibilities, Devon wouldn't hesitate to whisk her away the instant he believed she was in real danger. She also knew that this situation was tearing at him, that the conflict between man and agent was as strong as ever and as unresolved.

The agent was working on an assignment and had the duty as well as the desire to gather evidence against a very dangerous group of criminals; the man was involved with a woman who was, in all innocence, a linchpin in that situation and terribly vulnerable because of it.

Devon knew there had to be an ending to the deadlock between the bureau, the cartel, and her, and yet the only means of breaking that deadlock endangered her. Whether he loved her or not, the bond between them was very real, and he was hurting because the agent had been taught to use every tool available—and the man couldn't use her.

He hadn't wanted to use her as bait even in the beginning, when she was a stranger to him, and he was determined not to now. He very obviously intended to help her to "relive" the night her father had died, primarily in order to avoid using her as bait. The problem was that Lara was convinced she knew nothing that would help him.

And where did that leave them? If Devon was forced to make the decision to use her as a lure to get evidence against the cartel, it could destroy him. She felt that with a certainty that wouldn't be denied. Yet, if he decided against using her, and chose to get her safely away into another life, that also could destroy him. Because Devon knew all about the pain of being imprisoned with no roots and a strange identity, and the burden of being the one to lock her into another prison might well be the one burden he wouldn't be able to bear.

Lara drew a deep breath and spoke carefully. "What we need is more time. Time to find out if I really do know more than I think I do about that evidence.
Time to figure out a way to end this.
Right?"

Devon's face was still, but his eyes were haunted. He had at least a good idea what she was going to suggest. "Yes."

She wanted suddenly to throw her arms around him and hold him, wanted to drive away the shadows in his eyes. But she couldn't. She couldn't. What she was about to suggest would undoubtedly add more shadows. And she had no choice.

"Then we have to stall," she said. "We have to make the cartel believe that killing me wouldn't help them." She forced all the calm she could command into her voice. "So they have to think that I do have the evidence, and that I'm using it as an insurance policy."

"I'm sorry I brought it up. Even if we could make them believe that, it's too dangerous," Devon said immediately.
Tightly.

"It will give us time. They'll have to rethink their options, decide how much they're willing to risk." She drew another breath. "Devon, I'm not running this time. I won't let anyone hide me away again. I can't be hidden if I don't want to. So unless you're prepared to put me in a real prison with real bars, you'd better accept that."

"Dammit," he said almost inaudibly.

Lara hurt inside, but she wasn't willing to back down. This had to be her decision, for both their sakes. She could only hope she was able to make him see and understand why; it was so important. "Besides that, what if I don't remember anything helpful? In that case, the only way to get at the cartel is to make them deal with me."

"They won't," Devon said roughly. "Their man knows I'm on to him, we have to assume that. And we have to assume they believe you've kept any knowledge about the evidence to yourself; otherwise the bureau would have moved against them by now. They'll decide very quickly to get you out of the way."

"Not if we make sure they believe that my death wouldn't stop the evidence from coming to light," she said.

Devon moved slightly, almost unconsciously, as if his whole body rejected the word "death." "How do we do that? Take out an ad in the classifieds warning the cartel that you've left the evidence with some nameless third party with instructions to reveal it if anything happens to you? Dammit, Lara, that's right out of a grade B movie!"

She smiled a little. "Yes, it is, isn't it? But I'm not a pro, Devon. I'm an amateur.
A very scared amateur.
All I know about the so-called underworld is what I see on television and read in novels. And from those examples, I know that any smart person with damaging evidence always protects himself that way."

He stared at her. "Are you seriously suggesting that you run an ad in the newspapers?"