Loe raamatut: «Born In Secret»

PROFILE

FIRSTBORN SON:	Walker James
AGE:	28
STATS:	6'2", lean, well muscled. Jet-black hair. Piercing blue eyes. Chiseled, gorgeous features.
OCCUPATION:	International spy
AREA OF EXPERTISE:	Antiterrorism
PERSONALITY:	Tough but charming
FAVORITE SPORT:	Climbing isolated mountains and rappelling down canyon walls
MOST CHARMING CHARACTERISTIC:	His slow, wide, devastating grin
BRAVEST ACT OF COURAGE:	Going back into a building he’d set to detonate to assist an injured team member
PREFERRED ROMANTIC SETTING:	A certain balcony in Venice dancing beneath the stars
GREATEST PASSION:	An exotic Moroccan beauty he’s been unable to get out of his mind—or his heart

Born in Secret
Kylie Brant

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For all our extra kids—who fill our house, empty our cupboards and warm our hearts

Bound by the legacy of their fathers, six firstborn sons are about to discover the stuff true heroes—and true love—are made of….

Walker James: This darkly handsome spy learned the hard way that beautiful women are lethal if not kept at a distance. Now, working side by side with his stunning former flame to locate a deadly virus—and keeping a tight rein on his traitorous desires—could prove to be his ultimate undoing!

Jasmine LeBarr: As she aligns herself with the only man who can make her tremble with his merest touch, Jasmine is caught off guard by the emotional storm raging inside her. Now it’s anyone’s guess who will emerge victorious in this turbulent battle of wills….

Captain Richard Sutter: This seasoned mercenary is working behind the scenes to pave his firstborn son’s future. But at what cost?

The Brothers of Darkness: The sinister terrorist organization has been using the bad blood between the powerful Kamal and Sebastiani clans to their own advantage….

Sheik Rashid Kamal: Will this missing royal heir make it back alive to claim his rightful legacy—and his child?

A note from talented writer Kylie Brant, author of over ten novels for Silhouette Books:

Dear Reader,

Being asked to be part of a continuity is always a special thrill. And the concept behind the Intimate Moments FIRSTBORN SONS series intrigued me from the first. Who could resist heroes who put honor above all else and the very special heroines who teach them the power of true love?

In Born in Secret, Walker James and Jasmine LeBarr are paired to track down the deadly anthrax virus before it can be used to destroy an entire country. Their dangerous mission is complicated by their memory of the night they spent together three years ago. This time, though, they’re both convinced they can walk away from each other unscathed. What they learn, however, is that the peril of their assignment is matched only by the danger to their hearts!

My writing shares time with my full-time teaching job, husband and five children. Now that two of my kids are grown (well, sort of!), we juggle only three athletic calendars each season. These days, the most time my husband and I spend together is sitting on a bleacher at a game of some kind! We’re also veterans of emergency-room visits, usually the result of the aforementioned sports. But when the games are over I can close the office door, turn on the computer and dream away. And in between the frequent interruptions of phone and family, Walker and Jasmine’s story unfolded.

I hope you enjoy their story!

Sincerely,

Readers may contact me by snail mail at P.O. Box 231, Charles City, IA 50616, or by e-mail at kyliebrant@hotmail.com.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Prologue

“No one can know that I’m involved. Not even your agents.”

Richard Sutter picked up a crystal decanter of aged Scotch and splashed two generous fingers into each of a pair of cut glass tumblers. He handed a glass to his friend, and then sank down into one of the matching rich leather armchairs. At the first taste of the smooth liquor, he gave a small sigh of appreciation. It was a moment before he noticed that his guest had failed to follow suit.

“What’s the matter? Those terms not to your liking? I’m paying you a king’s ransom, you old reprobate. I’m entitled to a few conditions.”

The remark had Dirk Longfield’s mouth curving, but his gaze remained speculative. “No problem. Just wondering what’s behind your need for anonymity.” At the silence that followed his words, his brows skimmed upward and he tipped his glass to his lips. “And I’m quite aware that you’re not going to enlighten me.”

Raising his glass in a mock salute, Richard drank. “An astute observation.” His friend knew better than to waste time asking questions that wouldn’t be answered. They were both comfortable in the shadowy world of secrecy.

“Do you think you’ll have trouble getting Walker James to take this assignment?” His casual tone belied the purposefulness of the question.

Dirk hooked an ankle over his knee. “Trouble? No. Walker will do it for me.”

The certainty in his remark brought Richard a sense of relief that was only mildly tinged with jealousy. He focused on the first emotion and tried to ignore the second. The assignment would proceed as he’d planned. That was all that mattered. He thought it, and tried to believe it. “Good. From what I’ve observed, James is becoming one of the best in the business.” He waited with interest for his friend’s reaction.

Dirk tensed, straightened a bit in his chair. “Becoming? Walker is the best. The boy’s instincts are uncanny, and he’s a bloody genius when it comes to circumventing security. There’s no one in the field better suited for the task you outlined.”

For all the pride in his tone, Dirk sounded like Walker’s proud father, something both he and Richard knew he was not. “I assume you have someone in mind to partner with James.”

Nodding, Dirk raised his glass and sipped. “Another agent I highly recommend. Not as experienced as Walker, but very resourceful, and rapidly earning a reputation. I have no doubt they’ll execute the mission perfectly.”

“I hope so. Because we both know the ramifications if they fail.” The two men shared a silent look of understanding, then raised their glasses. To the mission. To success.

Long after Dirk had left, Richard remained in his study, contemplating the faded network of scars on the back of his hands. His gaze was turned inward, on a bittersweet journey of memories that he rarely indulged in. The hard living he’d experienced in his sixty-two years hadn’t come without regrets. Decisions made decades ago, even viewed from the distance of time, could still haunt.

With effort he climbed out of memory’s abyss and into the present. He trusted Dirk to do as he’d promised, and had no doubt that very soon Walker James would be flying to the Middle East to begin the assignment. Richard thought it was a mission that Walker would relish and excel at. And since Richard’s involvement would be kept secret, there was no reason to believe he wouldn’t accept the job.

It occurred to him then that Walker bore more resemblance to Dirk Longfield than he did to his own father. He tried not to let that bother him, wished that it didn’t. They both had black hair, although Dirk’s was now threaded with gray. Walker’s eyes were a shade lighter than Dirk’s midnight-blue, and his regard even more piercing. But the real cause for jealousy wasn’t for the two men’s similarity in looks, it was for their relationship. Richard knew that Walker considered Dirk his father in every sense that mattered.

And that fact was his biggest regret of all.

Chapter 1

At heart, Walker James would always remain a thief. The acknowledgment brought him no shame. He’d been a damn good one in his delinquent youth. If his illegal career had been cut short by Dirk Longfield’s interference, well, the talents he’d acquired along the way had been equally useful in the alternative path he’d chosen. Or perhaps, he mused sardonically, it had chosen him. It was doubtful that many people made the conscious decision to become a spy.

He prowled Dirk’s well-appointed office, his muscled frame moving soundlessly. For once he failed to be amused by his mentor’s choice in collectibles. A Ming dynasty vase stood side by side with a chipped and faded replica of Mickey Mouse. A Picasso adorned one wall, hanging next to a scarlet sunset painted on velvet, artist unknown. Beneath his feet was a rich faded tapestry rug dating from the regime of Catherine the Great. And behind the acre-long walnut desk was a well-known wall hanging of canines cheating at poker.

The rare beside the common. The tacky and the priceless. The collection invited a guest to make all manner of judgments about the collector. They would likely all be wrong. After ten years of friendship with Dirk, Walker knew the man acquired chiefly for whimsy. The value of an object meant far less to him than the fact that it had caught his fancy. Walker didn’t share the sentiment, but he understood it. Just as he understood the man who had currently been keeping him waiting for—he checked his watch again—twenty minutes.

When he’d received the phone call from his mentor, Walker had been on his way out the door for some well-deserved rest on a tropical beach, preferably a nude one. Although he’d meant to travel alone, he hadn’t intended to stay that way for long. There had been a lot of creature comforts that he’d gone without for a while, and sex was one of them. He’d hoped to take the next couple weeks remedying that.

But then he’d spoken to Dirk and plans had changed. The airline ticket had remained lying on top of the gateleg hallway table in his Philadelphia penthouse, and he’d driven down to Virginia immediately. Loyalty was an innate part of his makeup. Which explained why he was currently cooling his heels in this gallery of contrasts instead of sitting on a white sand beach, sipping rum and oiling a well-endowed blonde’s butt. He glanced at his watch again. Patience would never be one of his strengths.

The door opened then and he turned a jaundiced eye toward the man strolling toward him. “For a guy who was in such a hurry to get me here, you seem to have developed a sluggish sense of time.”

Dirk merely shot him a good-natured smile and clapped an arm around his shoulders. “You’re looking good, kid.” He reared back, pretended to study the younger man’s face. “A few more lines, maybe, but you needed to toughen up that pretty-boy face of yours.”

An unwilling smile tugging at his lips, Walker returned the man’s embrace. “It’s only been three months. I couldn’t have aged that much.” If he had he would only count it as a blessing. The movie star good looks he’d been cursed with at birth didn’t exactly make his an anonymous face. That was a damn nuisance in his line of work.

Gesturing the younger man to a chair, Dirk seated himself. “You probably should have. The way I hear it, you barely managed to escape your last mission with all your limbs intact.” His casual tone didn’t quite mask the concern in his voice.

Walker shrugged. “Let’s just say I have a renewed respect for explosives.” Although he hadn’t walked away from the job unscathed, he had walked away. It was an important distinction. “The mission was successful.”

Dirk’s mouth quirked. “I never doubted it. Which leads me, indirectly, to why you’re here. I have a job to propose, one that calls for the best. Naturally I thought of you.”

“I learned from the best.” Walker’s quiet answer was more than just factual. It was Dirk who had introduced him to the shadowy world of espionage…a world where right and wrongs weren’t always black and white, but more often a mottled shade of gray. He’d found it a comfortable enough fit.

Inclining his head to acknowledge the compliment, Dirk went on. “How much have you heard about the trouble brewing between Montebello and Tamir?”

“In which decade?” Walker asked dryly. The two small Middle Eastern countries had been feuding on and off for more than a century. “Seems like I heard something recently about Sheik Ahmed Kamal’s son being missing and him holding King Marcus Sebastiani responsible.”

Dirk’s expression was serious. “The king’s oldest daughter is pregnant by Kamal’s son, Rashid. He was last seen in the company of the princess, so when he came up missing Kamal immediately blamed Sebastiani. The sheik threatened to retaliate by taking over Montebello.”

Walker let out a soft tuneless whistle. Since Montebello was situated in a strategic military location, the ramifications were clear. “So the U.S. wants to protect their interests there, discreetly of course, while keeping the peace.”

“Partially.” Dirk hesitated for a moment, seemed to choose his words carefully. “There have been threats on Sebastiani’s family—bombings, attempted kidnappings— and the king believed Kamal was behind them. New intelligence indicates that the sheik wasn’t responsible at all, but a rebel faction housed in Maloun called the Brothers of Darkness.”

“I’ve heard of them. They’re rumored to have at least one terrorist cell here in the states, near L.A.” He frowned, searching his memory. “Seems there was something recently about a U.C.L.A. scientist being questioned about a possible connection with them.”

“Dr. Sinan Omer. He’s suspected of taking a shot at Princess Christina Sebastiani while at a conference out there. We think the Brothers have been heightening the strife between the two countries as a cover. Our sources in the Middle East tell us the organization is close to developing an anthrax virus to use against Kamal’s people. They intend to overthrow the sheik’s government and bring their own leader into power there.”

“Biological warfare.” Walker said the words, felt chilled. If the organization succeeded, he doubted they’d be content with oil rich Tamir. The entire Middle East would be at risk. The repercussions would be felt around the world.

He looked at Dirk. “What do I do?” That simply, that easily, he was committed. He could think of nothing he wouldn’t do for this man, who’d stepped into his life and changed its direction. But there was a larger, more encompassing matter at stake. Over the years, much to his dismay, Walker James had developed a conscience.

He blamed Dirk for it, of course. It was a damn bother most of the time, and he’d never grown entirely comfortable with it. But the work he’d done first for Dirk, and then with his own team, hiring out to the trouble spots in the world, had taught him to value peace. It was a quality found too infrequently for him to be indifferent to it.

The older man looked pleased, and a bit relieved. “Before I go into the whole plan, I should tell you that you’ll be paired with a partner. I was briefing her before you arrived. I’ll get her so we can all discuss the job together.”

Before Walker could respond, Dirk strode to the door, pulled it open and disappeared. He rose, stared after the man, something about his behavior striking him as odd. There had been an almost furtive quality to it, which was ludicrous. Dirk had never been anything but up-front with him.

Shaking off the feeling, he strolled to his host’s desk and picked up a chunk of jade used as a paperweight. It was new since Walker’s last visit, and he hefted it, examining it critically. Worth about twenty grand on the open market, he calculated, probably half that to a fence. The assessment was as natural as breathing. He may have gotten his life straightened out a decade ago, but he prided himself on keeping up on the trade.

Hearing a sound at the door, he turned, ready to ask Dirk about the jade. And instead stared in disbelief at the woman accompanying the older man. Fate, he’d always thought, was merely the acts of a whimsical god. And right now that god was having a good hard laugh at Walker’s expense.

“What’s she doing here?” His voice was flat. He was afraid, very much afraid, that he already knew the answer to that particular question.

His fear was confirmed when Dirk skirted his gaze and said, just a shade too heartily, “You remember Jasmine, of course. She’ll be your partner on this case.”

Walker glanced at the woman and saw her looking at him, her beautiful, exotic face composed. As if she didn’t remember the one night they’d spent together. How completely she’d surrendered; how perfectly they’d fit.

And how easily she’d betrayed him the next day.

He gave her a careless nod. “Jasmine…LeBarr, isn’t it? Sure I remember. It’s been…what? A couple years? In Barcelona?”

“Closer to three, I believe. And it was Venice.” Her English still held the slightly formal style of those not born speaking it, though her accent had faded to a mere lilt layering her words. Her voice was the same, warm sin wrapped in seductive velvet. Such a lovely voice for someone so unscrupulous. It had lingered in his memory far longer than he’d like to admit. The admission was bitter.

His attention switched to Dirk. “Get rid of her.”

“What?”

“Get rid of her, or find someone else to take my place. I don’t lay my life on the line with a partner I don’t trust absolutely. She doesn’t come close to fitting the bill.”

Clearly taken aback, Dirk cleared his throat. “Let’s all sit down, shall we? We can work this out.”

“I do not think Walker can be convinced, Dirk.” Jasmine’s tone was coolly amused. “From what I remember he does not like to listen to reason.”

His gaze narrowed. “No offense, sugar, but I don’t happen to have a death wish. And going into a terrorist stronghold with a woman of your, uh, experience doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence.” He was gratified to see her lovely cheeks flush with reaction to his innuendo. She glared at him.

“Now, Walker…surely you haven’t held a grudge all this time just because Jasmine outmaneuvered you the last time the two of you met up.”

Dirk’s voice, damn him, was amused. But then, he would only know about the mission that had pitted Walker and Jasmine against each other, not about their brief relationship. Walker was in no mood to enlighten the other man. “I don’t need her. I can do the job alone.”

“No, you can’t.” Gesturing Jasmine to a chair, Dirk waited for her to be seated before sitting beside her. The fact that Walker remained standing didn’t seem to bother him in the least. “It’s taken some very delicate negotiation to hammer out a plan with Sheik Ahmed Kamal. He’s touchy and has never made any secret of his distrust of westerners. He’d never agree to having this operation rest solely in the hands of an American.”

Knowing that Dirk was right didn’t make the words any more palatable. Walker paced, hands jammed into his pockets. The sheik’s bias against the western world was well known, and second only in intensity to his distrust of King Marcus. Walker was rapidly getting a sense of finality about this whole thing. But that didn’t stop him from trying one last time. “You can get someone else to take her place then. Preferably someone with a few more years in the field than she has.”

“That’s not possible. Sheik Kamal has already approved Jasmine for the job. In fact, he seemed quite pleased that she would be included.”

“Another sucker duped by your charms, Jaz?” It was nasty and low, but at the moment Walker was feeling nasty, and he was feeling low.

“I had the privilege of staying at the sheik’s home as a guest of his daughter, Leila, just last year.” Jasmine’s words were even, her gaze unwavering. “He is a man of great pride. It will be difficult for him to remain in Tamir while others fight what he believes to be his battles. I think we must handle him with care.”

“Jasmine’s right. And if you’d stop prowling around the room, and listen, you’ll understand why.” Dirk waited until Walker took a seat before continuing. “We’ve suggested to Sheik Kamal that he pretend to send a dignitary to Maloun to hammer out an accord between the prime minister there and Kamal’s country. According to our sources, the government is little more than a front—the Brothers of Darkness hold the real power. Once there, you’ll arrange for the prime minister to introduce you to the rebel faction leaders and get yourselves invited to their stronghold under the guise of completing the negotiations.”

The explanation sounded a death knell for Walker’s hope to have Jasmine replaced on this mission. “Don’t tell me. She’s going to play the part of the dignitary.”

Dirk inclined his head. “Exactly. With her coloring and background she’s admirably suited to the job. You’ll go along as her driver and personal assistant. While Jasmine engages the leaders in the phony trade talks, you’ll be searching the grounds for information about the location of the virus.”

Walker considered the idea. The thought of playing servant to Jasmine wasn’t especially appealing, but he’d be the primary engaged in the search, so he supposed he could live with the situation.

He glanced at her, observed the knowing tilt of her lush lips. She expected him to refuse, he realized; expected his pride and ego to make the decision for him. Since he had an ample supply of both, perhaps it was a reasonable assumption.

And it certainly wouldn’t be the first time that Jasmine LeBarr had misjudged him.

“It could work,” he conceded, and paused a moment to enjoy her expression of consternation before addressing Dirk again. “Developing an anthrax virus is a huge undertaking for a Third World country like Maloun. How do we know the Brothers are developing the virus themselves? They could have contracted the job out.”

Dirk was shaking his head before Walker had finished speaking. “Our government gathers intelligence on all countries and groups who try to produce deadly biological agents. The few who have been successful are monitored very carefully. None of them has ties with Maloun, and we’re guessing the Malounians wouldn’t make those kinds of inquiries and risk having their plans leak out. No, they’re directly involved in the development. We know they haven’t lacked for money. A man by the name of Amin Qadir was recently arrested. It’s suspected he was one of the major sources of funding for the group. The only questions remaining are how far along the virus is and where the work is being done.”

“The development of this virus you speak of, Dirk, would require highly skilled scientists, would it not?” Jasmine’s smoky voice curled through Walker’s senses and had an immediate, unwelcome affect on his hormones. He found the involuntary response damn irritating. “They would need technical equipment, expensive supplies…”

“They have to have a lab somewhere,” Walker concluded flatly. Oddly restless, he rose again to cross to Dirk’s desk. Leaning against it, he surveyed the other two. “And their little venture is taking some big financing.”

Nodding, the older man said, “The Brothers of Darkness would be the only group in the country powerful enough to provide all of those. You’ll have to go through them to locate the virus. Once you do, I want you to confiscate it, then get the hell out of the country.” A flicker of concern crossed his face before it was smoothed away. “The group is known for being particularly brutal with those who cross them. A couple of years ago it was rumored that one their members was thought to be selling information on the group to the Pakistani government. He vanished, only to show up a month or so later on the palace grounds, disemboweled.”

Silence stretched, thick and elastic. Walker appreciated the man’s warning, but it wouldn’t change the outcome of this meeting. He’d been committed the moment Dirk had contacted him. “When do we start?”

“Immediately. As soon as I contact Kamal he’ll send his private jet for you. You’ll have time to go out and pick up anything you think you might need.” His handsome face creased with a surprisingly youthful smile. “And if there are any odds and ends that you’re lacking for the job, I can probably supply them.”

Walker was well aware of the odds and ends Dirk kept in his warehouse of high-tech gadgetry. He wouldn’t mind taking a look. The man had an incredible knack for getting his hands on tools still in the prototype stage. “I can be ready.” He sent a lazy glance Jasmine’s way. “How about you?”

If she’d been affected by Dirk’s warning, it didn’t show in her expression. Her gaze met his in a silent challenge before turning to the older man. “I am sure Kamal is anxious for your call. There is no need to make him wait any longer.”

Slapping his hands on his knees, Dirk rose, and after a moment, she followed suit. “I’ll do it right now. Then the three of us can relax and catch up for a few hours. If you’ll excuse me for a few minutes?”

Walker waited until the man had strode out the door before focusing on Jasmine. She was, if anything, lovelier than the last time he’d seen her. The scarlet suit she wore showcased her endless legs and hugged her generous breasts. She still wore her long thick hair straight and loose to swing around her shoulders. He remembered how it felt draped across his chest; wrapped around his fingers. And because the memory burned, he gave her a mocking smile.

“Red’s a good color on you, Jaz. You should wear it often.”

She lifted an elegant brow. “Compliments, Walker? I do not remember that you were so flattering the last time we spoke.”

“Yeah, I was hard on you.” Hands still in his pockets, he strolled over to her, noted her almost imperceptible reaction when he deliberately invaded her space. At five foot nine she was five inches shorter than him, and he dwarfed her when he stood this close. She was incredibly feminine, with a delicate bone structure. It was an effective disguise for a woman trained to kill a man in half a dozen different ways.

But her real danger would come not from her skills but her ability to get people to trust her. To underestimate her. Then when she turned out to be something far different from what they expected, she had the element of surprise. He could attest that she used the quality to her advantage.

He crooked a finger, ran his knuckle lightly along her delicate jaw. “I shouldn’t have said those things back then. I was angry.”

Her eyes flickered warily, and this time she did take a step backward. He followed, maintaining the contact. Intent. Predatory. His thumb skated lightly across her lips. He felt each word as she formed it.

“You were furious.”

“Yes.” The word was a whisper of a sound uttered only inches from her mouth.

She moistened her lips. “You are still angry.”

Walker cupped her face with both hands and brushed his lips against hers. Once. Twice. Again. “Do I seem angry to you?”

Her fingers locked around his wrists. When his mouth settled against hers, her grip tightened but she didn’t push him away. He pressed her lips open and let her sweet unique flavor race through his system and fire his blood. When he traced the sensitive inner seam of her lips he was reminded of the silkiness of her mouth and dove deeper. He stroked her tongue with his, forcing her to respond to him. And when she did, when her fingers turned caressing on his wrists and her mouth opened avidly under his, he lifted his lips from hers to murmur, “No, I’m not angry. There’s no point. You can’t help what you are.”

He toyed with the ends of her hair as he waited for his words to register. But then her eyes fluttered open, the look in them dazed, drugged, and lust punched him hard in the gut. And when comprehension chased those feelings away, a deeply primal part of him mourned.

“What…” He distracted her from her words by dropping a kiss at the corner of her mouth. “And what am I?”

“An opportunist.” His lips skimmed the curve of her cheek. “A woman who’ll go to any lengths to get what she wants.” He felt her tense and with a twist had his hands free to capture her wrists before she could use her nails on him. “Hell, you’re not the first woman to use sex to get what she wants. Guess I should be grateful you screwed me literally as well as figuratively.”

She was faster than he remembered. He easily dodged her swiftly raised knee, but not the stomp on his instep. Even as he winced he was grasping both her wrists in one hand before she could try to flip him over her back, and yanked her closer to defuse the danger.

They were pressed together, legs, hips, chests; a solid length of heat pulsing between them. Even now he knew better than to underestimate her. “Still carry that stiletto around your thigh?” Without waiting for an answer, Walker slipped a hand under her skirt, skimmed his fingers over her silky leg and found the weapon strapped around it. She tossed her head, glaring at him murderously. Old grudges couldn’t lessen his appreciation of the picture she made with storms brewing in her dark eyes. “You always did have a temper, Jaz.”