Forging a Life—9
The first clue was the packed bag when he came home. Riah came down the stairs dressed in comfortable clothes, BlackBerry in hand and stopped on the last step to look at him. She blushed, stepped off the final step and said, "I have to go out of town for a few days."
He said nothing, cocked his head and wondered where she intended to go and whether or not she intended to return.
She said nothing further, simply crossed to the table and picked up a folder.
"Where?" he asked when it was obvious she wouldn't be forthcoming.
"Job."
Casey knew what that meant. Just as Beckman had begun giving him side jobs, her father had apparently decided to give her one. He wondered what she'd been asked to do and if it had been cleared with Beckman. Of course, if she was spying on them, then the more pertinent question might be whether or not she would soon be under arrest or dead.
She stuck the phone in her purse and looked up at him. One brow shot up. "I'm going spying, if you must know, and just so you know you don't need to arrest me or shoot me, I'll be doing it well out of the U.S.'s jurisdiction."
Canada, he supposed, though it was entirely possible she was headed elsewhere.
"Cover story?" He after all, would be the one who had to explain her absence.
"Grandmother's funeral in Canada," she told him.
He nodded. "I'll tell Big Mike."
"Already done."
It occurred to him she was delaying, and he wondered why. He considered asking what the assignment was, but he knew she couldn't tell him, had already told him more than she probably should have.
"Happy hunting," he said, and she nodded before scooping up her suitcase and heading out the door.
He'd barely settled in when Beckman called. "You're going to Banff," the General said in lieu of a greeting, and Casey frowned. He had a job watching the moron, and he didn't trust anyone else—even Walker—to make sure Bartowski remained safe.
"With all due respect, General," he began only to have her impatiently cut him off.
"Major Casey, the bargain we made with ISI to have Mariah Adderly placed with you means you will."
Casey frowned. "What does that mean?"
"V. H. Adderly needs to send Mariah to meet Eamon Finn. Apparently, the man has a list of Fulcrum agents placed in several of the major intelligence agencies. Finn will only turn it over to Miss Adderly."
There was something wrong here, he thought, not the least of which was that if he was going on her assignment, they should have gone together. Finn was easily in V. H.'s age bracket, and he couldn't imagine how Riah connected to the former IRA paramilitary leader. "Why Riah?" he finally asked.
"Finn knows V. H., and he knows V. H. can't come himself. Apparently, he thinks Miss Adderly is an appropriate substitute." The General paused to shuffle through a file on her desk. She picked up a piece of paper and skimmed it. "Adderly's request is that you go as her backup. Our agreement is that when she gets the flash drive with the list, you will make a copy before she hands it over to an Agent Rafferty."
Casey figured it would be a short run to Canada and back, and he knew his agreement wasn't needed. It was clear, looking at the General on the monitor, he was going. "Send me the details."
"Thank you, Major."
It was a pretty straightforward mission, he thought, as he read through his orders. Follow Riah to Banff, check into the same hotel, stay out of sight except for working the bar where Finn had set the rendezvous. If anything went wrong, he was to get Riah and the drive out, Finn, too, if possible. Easy enough, and it looked like enough downtime that he might get to put a little practice in with some climbing, skills that were beginning to atrophy on Mission Moron.
He boarded his flight to Calgary and settled in. He was glad no one was seated next to him. He hated having a seatmate who chattered away at him. At Calgary, he rented an SUV and drove to Banff. He and Riah were staying in a small hotel on Banff Avenue north of the shopping district. The pub where the drop would go down was only a couple of blocks off Banff Avenue and an easy walk from the hotel. After he checked in, he asked the receptionist if his old friend Cassandra Jones had arrived yet. The woman told him she had but didn't give him Riah's room number.
Casey took the stairs to his room, wanting to know what the escape route looked like, and when he entered the room, he dumped his bags on the low dresser where the television sat. There were two queen-sized beds covered in ugly bedspreads in the room and a small table with two chairs. He'd stayed in far, far worse.
He made his way to the pub and introduced himself to the manager, who took him in the back and handed him a black polo with the pub logo to wear for work. Casey wasn't sure what ISI had told the manager, but no questions were asked.
After he returned to the hotel, he ran a sweep for bugs, called the General and let her know he'd arrived. Then he called Adderly with the intent of telling him the same. To his surprise, instead of a greeting, V. H. said, "I was just about to call you."
"Yeah?" He doubted Riah could get herself in trouble in a matter of hours.
"I've got one very pissed off operative who needs a little help."
"Riah?" Casey asked, instantly on alert and running through reasons why she might need him already.
He heard a sigh over the phone. "Mariah just called me threatening to pull out of the operation because Gray Laurance not only turned up in Banff but booked himself into her room. Apparently, she sent him out at gunpoint, but she thinks he's the one I sent as her backup. She's asked me to get rid of him, but he's on vacation. I can't really do anything about where he chooses to vacation, but I'm hoping you can put the fear of God in him and get him to leave her alone."
Great, he thought. Now I get to play bouncer for the former boyfriend. "I'll see what I can do."
"She's meeting him in the bar in a few minutes to try and dissuade him."
Casey shrugged on his shoulder holster and pulled on a jacket. He picked up the newspaper he'd bought in Calgary and hadn't had time to read yet and quickly made his way downstairs to the bar. Fortunately, neither Riah nor Laurance was there yet, so Casey settled in the booth in the far corner where he could see the entire bar. He opened his paper, and when the bartender came, he ordered coffee. He heard the elevator arrive across the lobby, and he lifted his paper to hide his face. It was Laurance, who took a seat at the bar. A few minutes later, Riah joined him, and it was obvious she was furious.
He shamelessly eavesdropped on their conversation, glad the bar wasn't big enough he couldn't hear them. Riah kept her voice down, but she didn't mince words. She also didn't say anything that would tip anyone within listening distance off to what was really going on. That won her several points with Casey. He'd seen agents lose their tempers and blow their covers more than once. Riah stayed in control until Laurance made what was clearly an insincere apology for Edmonton. Casey couldn't blame her there. He had, after all, seen the damage she'd sustained due to Laurance's cowardice. Even then she kept her voice down and didn't give anything away other than her fury at Laurance.
When she stalked away followed by Laurance, Casey dropped his paper and signaled the bartender. He paid the man and watched Riah shake Laurance off and stalk out the front door of the hotel. Laurance started to go after her but apparently thought better and boarded the elevator. Casey followed Riah who had gone out in the early April cold with only a suede jacket.
She stalked rapidly down Banff Avenue, through the shopping district, and Casey kept an eye on her while he continued to scan the faces for anyone he might recognize. By the time she reached the end of the sidewalk, she was breathing heavily, though whether that was from rage or exertion, he wasn't sure. He was within five or so yards of her as she swiveled her head and considered her options. He walked up to her, and she turned. From the angry expression she wore, she clearly thought Laurance had followed her. He saw the shock on her face as she looked up at him. "What are you doing here?" she asked, anger still edging her voice.
"Your father asked me to keep an eye on you," he said.
"I don't need a babysitter," she snapped.
One side of his mouth quirked up. He was amused by her choice of words, especially since that was almost exactly what Casey felt like. That wasn't normally funny to him, but he liked that she called this what it was. "No, I don't reckon you do," he agreed, "but Laurance is probably going to need more convincing than a temper tantrum."
She raised her eyebrows, her mouth firming into a straight line. "Apparently a gun in the face wasn't enough of a disincentive, either."
He frowned down at her. Adderly had said she sent him out at gunpoint, but Casey couldn't imagine her drawing a weapon on someone like Laurance. "What?"
"He booked himself into my room," she snapped. "I made him leave by pointing my weapon at him. I suspect he's booked himself into the hotel, probably into a room very near mine."
"Come on," he ordered, turned her and headed back toward the hotel. He dropped his hand in the small of her back to guide her. He wanted to get her back to the hotel and in her room before Laurance decided to try his luck again. If the other man saw him with Riah, well, that could only work to her advantage in terms of keeping the self-centered idiot out of her way. He decided, as he marched her back up Banff, that they would do better to share a room in case Laurance decided to come after her again. Riah didn't need to be distracted by Laurance, and Casey needed to get this job over quickly so he could get back to L.A. and his own assignment. If sharing a room discouraged Laurance, then Riah could stay focused.
"Where are we going?"
"Two choices," he said. "You're moving out of your room and staying with me, or I'm moving out of mine and staying with you."
"How about neither."
"Riah—"
"Cassandra!" she hissed.
"Cassie, then," he said with a grim smile, noting Riah's annoyance that he shortened the cover name she insisted he use. "Either you stay with me or I stay with you. It's the only way to make sure Laurance stays away long enough for you to have your meet with Finn."
She slid a sidelong glance at him. Something wasn't right if that took her by such obvious surprise. "You know about that?"
"I'm your backup," he told her, "and just to make sure it all goes well, I'll be working the bar tomorrow night."
"What if Finn recognizes you?" she asked.
Casey shrugged. The chances of Finn recognizing him were slim. Casey had never worked Ireland, though he had visited there once. "I've never met him before, so it isn't likely. But if he does, as your father would say, we improvise."
They walked on in silence. "So this trade works both ways," she said after a block.
"What trade?" he asked, lost in his own thoughts about how to deal with Laurance if the other man stupidly turned up again.
"Dad loaned me to General Beckman, and apparently Beckman loaned you to Dad." Riah looked up at him. "No wonder Dad didn't give me a name for my contact."
Casey's hand moved. He slid his arm around her shoulder, pulled her close. She might not be willing to admit it, but he could tell the cold was getting to her. He also spied Laurance on the opposite side of the street, and a little show seemed in order. He put his mouth near her ear and asked softly, "What do you mean he didn't give you a name?" He knew how that would look to the man glaring at them from across the street. He stopped the little smile that lifted one side of his mouth.
"It wasn't in my brief." Casey grunted, thought about what she said, any amusement gone. Apparently, Riah hadn't been told everything about this job, and that concerned him. She was in danger if she didn't know what was going on, and this list was high stakes enough that General Beckman had sent him, pulled him off an assignment that genuinely could affect national security for one almost any agent could have done.
"What did you mean about a temper tantrum?" she asked.
"I was in the bar," he said. "V. H. told me Laurance had turned up and to see what needed to be done to get him away from you."
"Back corner," she said. "Newspaper." He snorted, pleased that she'd apparently been more aware than he thought when she stalked into the bar with murder in her eyes and apparently intent only on Gray Laurance.
When they reached the hotel, he stopped and turned her to face him, his hands on the crest of her hips. "Made a decision yet?"
"You're moving in with me," she said, and Casey got the impression she only gave him an answer to shut him up, but he looked closer. There was something in her eyes and pale face that told him she was at least a little relieved to not have to face Laurance alone again. He almost negated her decision since Laurance knew where her room was to insist she move to his, but he didn't. Officially, this was Riah's operation, so, officially, she got to call the shots.
They walked to the elevator, and he took his arm from around her. When they were inside the car, he asked for her room number. He walked with her to her room, and when she'd opened the door and made a comment about the need to get him a key, he told her he'd be back as soon as he got his gear. Then he took the stairs down to his room. As he grabbed his bags, he looked around. He decided on the spot not to check out of his room and sat the smaller bag he had stuffed his work clothes in back down so housekeeping didn't assume the room was unoccupied. If Laurance continued to be a pest, they could move here and maybe avoid him. He was booked into the room under the name Michael Andrews, and unless Laurance knew what his cover was, he was unlikely to find them.
Returning to Riah's room, he knocked, noted with approval that she used the peephole rather than simply open the door. Of course it gave away her location if he were one of the bad guys and intent on killing her. Perhaps he ought to temporarily rig a camera and set up his laptop to receive the signal so that neither of them would have to stand in front of the door to confirm who was on the other side. After all, Fulcrum would not like it if a list of their agents fell into either ISI or NSA hands, and he and Riah could be at real risk if anyone knew what she was doing here. Finn, of course, was taking a huge risk, but Casey didn't consider Finn his problem. The man reputedly was more than capable of taking care of himself.
Casey walked in, noted the one bed and wondered why she had decided on her room when he had two beds in his. If it had been any other woman, he would have wondered if she had an ulterior motive. For a moment, he thought about the night she had come home drunk and propositioned him and then tried to entice him. The next evening, she had been red-faced when she apologized, hadn't met his eyes when she told him she had no tact filter when she drank too much, and he'd let her off the hook.
He, of course, had no motive other than making sure she had peace of mind to do her job.
That didn't explain why he thought once more about the night he'd kissed her in their kitchen. It didn't explain why he had a phantom taste of mocha and Riah in his mouth. He shut the door tightly on the night of the Baines incident.
He refocused. Casey had learned long ago not to sleep with his partners, a lesson he thought Walker ought to learn, and as far as he was concerned, Riah was his partner as long as she was his cover. In this case, she really was his partner since he was her backup. He crossed the room and dropped his bags in a corner, and Riah's eyes shot to his when the bag with his climbing gear clinked. He could read her expression—she was wondering how many arms and of what types he'd smuggled into the country. She didn't ask, and he suddenly realized that she almost never asked questions about him or about the job. Most agents fished for leverage or background, and even civilians who realized he worked for the government eventually tried to find out specifics about his job. God knew Bartowski had tried hard to find out something about both him and Walker. He wondered if Riah didn't ask because she'd grown up in the business, so to speak. She must have known from an early age that there were things her father simply couldn't tell her and that she couldn't have asked about.
It was nearly seven by this time, and Casey asked her what she wanted to do about dinner. She looked tired, he noted, so when she said she didn't care, he suggested they simply go downstairs to the hotel restaurant. "Besides," he added, "it wouldn't hurt for Laurance to see us together."
She agreed, shrugged into a shoulder holster and secured her weapon before pulling a jacket on.
Casey made sure they were seated in the back of the restaurant at a table that enabled them both to see the other customers and not have anyone approach them from behind. They were far enough away from the other diners that they could have talked about nearly anything they wanted and not be overheard. To his surprise, perhaps because she didn't eat meat that he'd noticed, she ordered a steak, medium rare, and he raised his brows and ordered the same with a bottle of cabernet. When the waitress had moved away, Riah asked, "What?" Then she grinned at him. "You thought I was a vegetarian, didn't you?" He grunted, agreed, and she laughed. "I don't eat a lot of meat," she said, "but I do eat it. Besides, Alberta is known for beef."
"What do you plan to do with your downtime?" he asked. He needed to plan ahead if he was going to keep Laurance away from her. He had to turn up for his shift at the pub in the late afternoon, but if he needed to keep an eye on her, it would help to plan his time accordingly. She told him she thought she might drive out and see if the trails were in any condition to hike at Johnston Canyon or, maybe, Lake Moraine.
He knew her father had been a fine mountaineer, and he wondered if she'd ever gone with him. It occurred to him that he could easily keep an eye on her if he took her climbing. He knew for a fact that Laurance didn't climb, so it was unlikely he'd try to come along. Casey asked her if she climbed, and they spent dinner talking about the sport, their preferences for climbing, and the peaks they'd climbed. Her experience was good, but she'd never done any of the really dangerous climbs.
Casey had already figured out that Riah was a middle-of-the-road risk girl. Given some of her experiences, from her abduction as a child through to her experience in Edmonton a few months earlier, he supposed he couldn't blame her. She would never get very far in her chosen career, though, if she wasn't willing to take enormous risks when necessary. Not for the first time, he questioned whether or not she was cut out for this kind of work. Of course, her father was in a position to protect her, so it could be that he simply didn't let her take too many risks. She was the man's only child, after all, and he loved her fiercely. Perhaps it was because of Casey's doubts about her that he picked up his wineglass and asked, "Interested in giving Mt. Rundle a try?"
She considered it, he noticed, watched how her eyes lit at the idea, and then she took the time to think about it. That moment of reflection was a good thing, he decided. She wasn't prone to rash decisions, and in their business, that kept an agent alive. Since he might have to trust his life to her judgment here, he was pleased she hadn't agreed automatically. "It's a little early, isn't it?" she asked at last.
He shrugged. It was, but he hoped to find the time to climb something while he was here. Even he didn't do solo climbs on ice.
"I don't have any gear with me," she said, and he could tell she seriously considered it. He noted the second it dawned on her what had really been in the black duffel she had thought held weapons. "That's what was in the duffel, the one that clinked."
He grinned at her. "What did you think it was? Assault weapons? Grenades? Mortars?" He could read it on her face. She had, indeed, assumed he'd somehow found a way to either get weapons across the border or get them once he'd arrived in Canada. He laughed, realized that his reputation for maximum firepower had caused her to make such an assumption. He did believe in being prepared for any eventuality, but he didn't carry difficult to conceal weaponry into a friendly country when he had no reason to believe it would be needed.
An odd look crossed her face when he laughed, but Casey didn't pursue an analysis of it. He was suddenly very aware of the fact that he would spend the night in a relatively small bed with her. She picked up her wineglass and swallowed the last of her cabernet. "I brought my boots, but I like being alive and having my limbs intact, so I'll pass."
He raised his brows. "Chicken?" he asked.
"No," she said with a faint smile. "Sane."
The waitress came and asked if she could bring them anything else, but neither of them wanted dessert or coffee. Riah asked for the bill, and when it came, she added a gratuity and signed it, charging it to her room. Casey's manners kicked in, and he rose, pulled her chair out and put his hand in the small of her back. They walked to the elevator and rode to her floor. Once in the room, Riah told him she was going to take a shower. She rummaged in her bag, pulled something black from it before she disappeared in the bathroom. He found the remote control for the television, turned it on and sat on the bed to remove his shoes. He ran through the channels until he hit a news channel and settled back against the headboard to watch.
He didn't pay a lot of attention to the television. Perhaps he should tell her he had two beds in his room and suggest they move there. If it wouldn't sound like he was afraid to sleep with her—a woman who had shown no real interest in him other than that one incendiary kiss, the mutual groping the evening after the Baines thing, and the night she'd come home drunk—he would make the offer. Casey realized he was trapped into what would probably be a sleepless night. He supposed he could always return to his room in the morning and put in a few hours of sleep.
When she came out, she was wearing something that looked like what Walker teased poor Bartowski with, a short, black, silk nightgown and robe. He had expected what she slept in at their apartment, a shirt and boxer shorts. Casey's jaw tightened, and he wondered for a moment if she had expected to have company and had chosen more feminine sleepwear accordingly. Perhaps that had been was the true reason she'd been so upset about Laurance's sudden appearance. She hadn't protested, though, when Casey insisted they share a room, and he had a feeling she would have if she had expected company.
He wordlessly got off the bed, collected his shaving kit and his own pajamas, which he had only packed in case there was an emergency at night—he'd learned the hard way to have some kind of clothing at hand in hotels after a hotel fire in Cairo and a terrorist situation in Tel Aviv. He didn't count Prague, though perhaps it fell into a similar category. He normally slept nude, but when he stayed in a hotel, he wore pajama bottoms and kept the jacket handy. He lingered in the shower, hoped Riah would use the time to get to sleep before he joined her.
Casey strode into the room and stashed his folded clothes in a drawer. Riah was sitting on the bed watching the news, though when he turned to ask her if she wanted the electric fireplace on, it was quite clear that while she was looking at the television her thoughts were elsewhere. She told him it was up to him, and Casey switched it on. He'd noticed, having lived with her for a while, that she didn't like it completely dark at night.
Pulling out a chair from the table, he sat in it and said, "I think we'd better compare notes." He had thought about the fact that she didn't seem to have the whole picture on this operation while he was in the shower, and he decided it was time to figure out just how many pieces of the puzzle she was missing. They were both at risk if she was missing too much of it. Riah began going through her orders. She told Casey the code phrase she'd been given, and then she smiled wryly, admitted she thought it was a bit stupid since she'd known Finn as long as she could remember. Casey knew, though, that the code phrase meant Finn didn't think there was any danger. He was stunned that she didn't seem to know that, too. If the other man turned up and didn't use the phrase, something was wrong. He hoped the man would stay away if he was in danger. She went on to explain that she was there to pick up something from Finn, who had known her father for years.
Casey sat and thought a moment or two when she finished. He tried to decide whether she was simply not telling the rest or if she really didn't know. She looked at him but said no more. He concluded that she didn't know any more, and he got a sinking feeling. This was going to go horribly wrong, and he felt a bitter resentment that he'd been dragged into it. He asked if she knew what she was supposed to get from Finn. She shook her head and said she hadn't been told but that Finn would slip her whatever it was.
Incredulous, but careful not to show it, he asked, "That's all?"
She nodded, and he noted she seemed troubled. "Anything seem weird about this?" he asked, hoping to get her to talk about whatever was bothering her. He didn't want her going into the pub this much in the dark, and he made the decision to demand from V. H. in the morning what he was thinking sending her in with so little information. Casey debated filling in the blanks for her before her rendezvous with Finn.
Riah looked relieved that he thought something was wrong with this, and she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed to face him. "Every single bit of it," she said fervently. "I don't understand why Dad would pull me out of L.A.—let alone get Beckman to let him pull you—to see Uncle Finn. I can't imagine what Finn would have for him. I realize there have been a few flare-ups in Ireland, but ISI rarely deals with the Troubles. The weirdest part of all is Gray showing up and expecting me to welcome him with open arms."
She had no idea, he thought. If she thought it was about Ireland, she was way off mark. Casey realized she was more preoccupied by Laurance than she was about whatever it was that Finn was supposed to give her. He didn't like that her head wasn't in the game, and he realized he was going to have to hunt Laurance down and get him the hell out of Banff. Riah needed to focus on the mission because if Fulcrum was involved, she would be wearing a huge target once Finn slipped her the flash drive with the list. "Think it's a set up?" he asked.
Casey watched her as she mulled it over. Finally, she said, "No, but it wouldn't be the first time Dad gave me a relatively meaningless assignment to put me at ease. That just doesn't add up in this case, though, because in sending me to you, he was essentially sending me on a paid vacation where I would be safe. So why, then, pull me from that and send me on what looks like a courier job in a place where there are actually people who might recognize me?"
He raised a brow at that, suddenly pissed that Adderly hadn't been smart enough to keep her out of a place where her cover might easily be blown. Riah, meanwhile, explained that she used to vacation in Banff with her mother. "I don't like this," he said at last.
"Neither do I," she said, "but we do the job that's in front of us."
He nodded and stood. They did, indeed. He had resolved to tell her what she was missing, but he thought it might be best to first find out what the hell Adderly had been thinking to leave his daughter this vulnerable. He began to wonder if Laurance wasn't as much at fault as he assumed for the mess she'd endured in Edmonton. He'd never thought of ISI as slipshod before, but he had grave doubts now. God knew the Canadians had had serious problems with their intelligence organizations, from the Mounties to CSIS, but ISI had always seemed to have its act together.
"Lights out," he said gruffly. As he crossed the room and checked the door locks, he heard Riah slide between the covers and switch off the lamp. She had settled down with her back to his side of the bed, he noted as he returned. He sat down and leaned forward to turn off the lamp before he lifted the covers and lay down behind her.
She was stiff as a board, and he realized she wasn't going to relax any time soon. Maybe if he talked to her she'd relax. He remembered something she had said as they talked earlier. "Did you say 'Uncle Finn?'" he asked softly.
Riah was silent for a while, but he knew she wasn't asleep. Finally, she said, "That's what I called him when I was a child."
"Any other terrorists you consider family?" he asked, mainly to push her buttons. Maybe if she had something else to stew over, she'd unwind, and he'd get to sleep.
His question apparently pissed her off. Casey acknowledged he was rather good at pissing people off, especially women. "Lots," she bit out. "Our house has more body armor and explosive residue on holidays than an Al Qaeda training camp."
Casey gave an amused snort. One of the things he liked about her was her quick mind, and she was clearly willing to give back as good as she got. She seized up again when he snorted, and he realized she was never going to loosen up if he taunted her. "Go to sleep," he said.
The electric fire gave off a faint light, and now that his eyes had adjusted to the gloom, he could see her lying rigidly in front of him. If he thought it wouldn't spook the hell out of her, he'd consider seducing her. Sex did tend to get rid of any stiffness, but she was the boss's daughter, and he wasn't about to give V. H. Adderly any reason to sign an elimination order with his name on it. He heard her swallow thickly, and it suddenly occurred to him that she was terrified he might actually try to seduce her.
A part of him was seriously pissed off. He might not be the best looking guy, but he wasn't ugly if the way most women reacted to him was any gauge—including Riah. He had never threatened her, and he had only twice made a move on her that wasn't for their cover. Otherwise, he only touched her when they had an audience, and he had never suggested—though he conceded he had thought it once or twice—they make their cover story real. He realized he was going to have to try and put her at her ease, but he didn't want to have a long, drawn out conversation about it. He decided on a little aversion therapy. He insulted her. "I'm not going to touch you," he ground out. "You're too short and too skinny. Go to sleep, Riah."
She flinched, and Casey nearly apologized. Then he wondered what it was about this woman that made him alternately want to get rid of her and then want to be kind to her. John Casey did not do kind. He supposed it was the fact that she had uprooted her life because she'd been told to and moved in with him and pretended to be his girlfriend. He was well aware that most of the civilians for whom their act was intended thought she had a screw loose for choosing him, but she did her job. She also defended him, and Casey couldn't remember anyone ever having done that before who wasn't his superior officer. More surprising, she paid attention to him, to what he liked and what he didn't, and she tried hard to accommodate his preferences when they were in front of others—and sometimes when they were alone. She also had an excellent memory. She had never once slipped up with their cover. Casey had to admit she'd saved his ass at least twice there.
He heard her sigh. He remembered the pills he'd seen in her luggage when she moved in. He wondered if he could find a tactful way to ask if she'd brought the sleeping pills with her and then insist she take them. Of course, he'd have to admit he'd invaded her privacy and searched her things if he did that. He rose on an elbow and leaned closer to her. "Riah," he said impatiently, and to his surprise, she jerked away from him so hard she nearly fell out the other side of the bed. He moved quickly, grabbed her before she did a header onto the carpet.
She fought him, reacted as though she had only been waiting for him to pounce on her to swing into action, and Casey tamped down his sense of outrage as he realized her reaction was not only completely unexpected but out of proportion. She'd never once given him cause to believe she was afraid of him. Quite the contrary. One of the things he liked about her was that she wasn't afraid of him. Even Bartowski, who had discovered from Casey under pentothal that he was all threat and no bullet, was still afraid of him on a deeper level.
Casey deflected her hands, knees and feet out of reflex, but his mind raced to sort out what was wrong with her. Finally, he realized it must have to do with her still fairly recent trauma in Edmonton. Not wanting to hurt her, and not wanting her to hurt him in return, he finally used his weight, flipped her onto her back, rolled on top of her, and used his greater size to subdue her. He grabbed her hands as she blindly fought and slammed them onto the bed above her head.
They were both breathing heavily, and he had an odd thought: She hadn't screamed, she hadn't demanded he let her go, nor had she done anything but fight him. Most women would have been very vocal if they thought they were being assaulted. He wondered why Riah hadn't. Her body was taut underneath his. When he was satisfied the fight had gone out of her, he put both her wrists in one of his large hands and reached with his free hand to turn on the lamp.
"What's the matter with you?" he demanded harshly as his eyes adjusted to the sudden glare. "I told you I wouldn't touch you."
Her breathing was ragged, and he knew he was crushing her but wasn't willing to move until he was absolutely sure she wouldn't attack him again. "Claustrophobic. Afraid of the dark," she wheezed out faintly.
He lifted his upper body so she could breathe, braced his weight on his elbows, shifted his hold on her wrists, and looked down at her. He studied her, recalled the bare details from her file. She'd been abducted at age seven from her bedroom and held in a small, dark room and beaten. In Edmonton, she'd been tortured in a dark cellar.
"Your father told me once you were abducted as a child," he said quietly, deciding to start with the furthest trauma and see what she had to say.
She nodded, a sharp jerk of the head. "Bad things happen in the dark," she said shakily.
He let her wrists go, noticed she left them where they rested on the mattress. She stared back at him, and he saw dark pain in her eyes. He asked gruffly, not at all sure he wanted to hear the answer, "How bad?"
She swallowed thickly and looked away. "Bad enough," she said faintly.
He was no closer to knowing what had been done to her, but he knew better than to push her for a more satisfactory answer. "Then why did you suggest I stay in your room with you when you knew there was only one bed?" he asked.
"I didn't think," she said honestly.
That intrigued him. She seemed to calculate all her decisions, and yet she was admitting she hadn't done so in this case. She knew better, he was sure. "You don't survive in this business if you don't think, Riah," he said gently.
"It's no defense," she said, and he gave her credit for not denying it or making excuses for her lapse, "but I was so shaken by seeing Gray that it just didn't occur to me that my room had only one bed. I really didn't think about it until I was in the shower."
He had pushed her into choosing which room they would share to make it easier on him. If they were in the same room, he would have an easier time either keeping Laurance away until their mission was finished or getting rid of him if he persisted. Perhaps he should let her have her own room back. "I didn't check out of my room," he said. "I can go back there."
She looked up at him, and he was certain she'd agree. He waited for her to voice her decision, and as he waited, she searched his face. He watched her, watched the thoughts come and go in those dark blue eyes of hers, then he saw her face tighten with grim determination, and he suspected she was going to do this the hard way. She confirmed his suspicion by shaking her head.
Casey offered her a chance to change her mind. "You're sure?"
Riah nodded, but he could tell she wasn't completely comfortable with her decision. "May I put the bathroom light on?"
He wanted to selfishly say no, but it wasn't like he couldn't sleep in broad, bright daylight when necessary, so he pushed off her and said, "I'll get it." When he returned to the bed, she had moved back to her side and turned her back to him once more. He turned the light out on his side of the bed again and settled in, hoped she'd go to sleep.
Casey's eyes snapped open when he heard a door down the hall slam closed. Riah roused slightly and snuggled back against him. In the night they had moved closer together, and he now lay on his side spooned up behind her with one arm under her pillow and the other wrapped around her waist holding her against him. He felt her go stiff and decided to pretend to still be asleep and hope she settled in again. She lifted her head slightly, looked at the bedside clock, and then settled back down, moved enough that he felt the silk of her gown slide along his bare chest.
"Go back to sleep," he said softly in her ear, and she jumped, strained against the arm around her waist.
"Get off me," she said.
"Not on you," he mumbled, already sliding back into sleep. He felt her hand on his forearm and felt it slide toward his hand. She closed her fingers on his wrist and tugged. He sighed and groused, "Riah, just go to sleep."
Casey groaned when she turned over and faced him. He put his arm back around her, tugged her closer, and rasped in her ear, "Go. To. Sleep." Her left leg had come to rest on his knee, and the weight of it pulled uncomfortably on his own leg, so he slid it between hers, let his spine realign.
She stiffened again, and after a moment, she whispered, "John?"
He grunted sleepily, wished the woman would just shut up and let him get another couple of hours of sleep.
"Let me go, please?" He sighed when he heard her slightly desperate please. He unwrapped his right arm from around her, withdrew his left, and slid his leg back. Just as he was dropping off again, he heard her whisper, "Move over."
Casey started to snap out something along the lines of shut up and go to sleep, but he realized he lay in the middle of the bed while she clung to the edge. He sighed, rolled over, and gave her more room. He resisted making a snide comment when he felt Riah move a little closer.
Faint daylight was coming through the crack between the curtains when he woke next. This time Riah was snuggled up against his back, the heat of her warmed him, and her arm rested on his hip. Her face was buried against his shoulder blade, and he felt the waxing and waning of her warm breath against his skin. He took his hand out from under his pillow and clasped her hand where it hung over his hip. She didn't wake, and he left his hand on hers and went back to sleep.
He next awoke to the joint stimuli of someone pounding on the door and Riah snatching her hand back. He noticed she didn't immediately move away from him. The pounding came again, and he pulled himself out of bed before the idiot at the door woke half the floor. He took his sidearm with him, looked out the peephole. He really should install a camera, but if Finn turned up this evening, then there was no need.
It was Laurance, and Casey decided he might enjoy this. If Riah felt anything for the jackass, though, she might not forgive him. He was pretty sure he could live with that.
Casey turned back to her and hissed, "Laurance," and Riah groaned and slapped a hand over her eyes. Her frustration decided his course of action. He undid the chain and the deadbolt and opened the door, leaving his weapon along the leg turned away from the hallway. No need to unnecessarily scare any civilians who might be about.
"Mariah—" Casey felt a grim satisfaction when whatever the other man had been about to say died on his lips as he took in a half-naked and armed Casey. Hopefully, painting the man a living picture, especially since Riah was still in bed, would get him to go away. Casey gestured with his gun for the moron to step inside, and he closed the door behind him.
Riah sat up as the door closed, and Casey liked the way she looked there, her hair sleep rumpled and the gown's loose top showing her cleavage. Laurance, however, had a very different reaction, one Casey found equally satisfying.
"What was that about not mixing business with pleasure again?" he snapped out. "Mariah, do you have any idea who this man is?"
Casey grunted, the one Chuck Bartowski called grunt number nine. It usually preceded Casey doing mild bodily harm. Before he could react, though, Riah got out of bed and stalked closer to them. She didn't put on her robe, and Casey found himself distracted by the way the silk skimmed her body and her breasts moved beneath it.
He really needed to find a woman soon.
"I told you to leave," she ground out, glaring at Laurance. She really was something in a temper.
The idiot decided to hold his ground, and Casey decided to see how this would play out. If she could handle it without his interference, that might be better. If Casey had to step in, Laurance might take it into his thick skull to "rescue" Riah from him.
"Not without an explanation," the other man said.
"Yes, without an explanation," she countered, and Casey made a slight, approving nod. If she gave in and started explaining, it would only give Laurance an opening he could exploit. Casey had a feeling the other man would weasel his way in if she gave him the chance. "I told you yesterday to leave. I told you I was here for an assignment, which you clearly knew since you obviously came here to find me. I don't owe you any explanation beyond that."
"Mariah—" Laurance began, but he cut himself off and turned to glare at Casey. Casey made sure he wore an indifferent mask. "Maybe we could go somewhere just the two of us and talk about this."
Riah crossed her arms under her breasts, and Casey noted how the move pushed her assets up. Laurance, he noticed, wasn't immune, either. "We're going nowhere, and we have nothing to discuss," she said.
"Does your father know?" he demanded, and Casey grinned at the other man's angry tone. He knew that V. H. would preserve their cover, and he also knew that Riah's father wouldn't hesitate to drive a wedge between the man angling for his job and his daughter.
"Yes, he does," she told him. "He knows I'm here, he knows John's here with me, and he knows you turned up uninvited. I think John might have permission to shoot you if you get in my way."
Casey decided to be helpful, lifted the weapon he still held and said in that soft, slightly dangerous tone that made most people back down, "I'd be happy to shoot him even if he gets out of our way." He'd deliberately said our instead of your, a substitution that wasn't lost on Gray Laurance. Riah gave him a slight smile, and Laurance paled. Sometimes a reputation was a good thing, Casey thought, well aware that most agents thought he needlessly resorted to violence.
Laurance wasn't going down with absolutely no fight, though. "I can't imagine V. H. willingly letting his daughter sleep with a thug," he sneered at Casey.
"John's not a thug," Riah lashed back before Casey could do more than take a menacing step toward the other man. Her voice changed to amusement, and Casey narrowed his eyes when he heard her say, "Cold-blooded killer, maybe, but thug, no. I'm an adult, Gray, and I make my choices. Not you, not my father."
"You're crazy if—" he started to say, but Riah cut him off.
"I'm not crazy, Gray. I'm pissed off. Get out and stay away from me, or I'll be the one who shoots you," she promised.
Laurance held his hands up and moved back toward the door, gave Casey a wide berth and made sure he didn't turn his back on either of them. "I'm going, but this isn't finished, Mariah."
Casey followed him to the door and locked it behind him. Then he turned to Riah and raised his brows. "Cold-blooded killer?"
"Care to deny it?" she snapped.
He snorted, liked this woman with a backbone better than the trembling mess she'd been the night before, and asked her if she wanted the bathroom first.
