Steeling a Dream
Part 1: Diamonds of Steele
Part 1: Diamonds of Steele
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Steele Holting On
Steeling a Dream
Part 2: Under a Steele Dark Sky
Part 2: Under a Steele Dark Sky
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Steele Holting On
Chapter 11 Epilogue
Laura cleaned up the kitchen after dinner while Remington sat at the island, drinking his wine and playing
with the red diamond pendant he’d given her. She rubbed the back of her neck for a moment before
wiping down the counters.
Noting the movement, he asked, “Neck sore?”
“Um, no, actually.” Going with her gut, she offered, “This might sound odd, but I’ve the uncomfortable
feeling we’re being watched. The hair on the back of my neck is standing straight up.”
Smiling at her excellent natural instincts, he replied, “We are. We were followed by a bloke on a
motorcycle all the way home. I called Kaleb while you were in the tub, and he got a bead on him from
the park across the street.”
Irritation had her making her movements sharp and precise. “And you were going to tell me when?”
“There was no need. You already knew. Any particular reason why you are only now telling me?” he
retorted, neatly turning her statement back on her.
Laura threw her hands up and stuck them to her hips. “I don’t know why I have these debates with
you.” He only grinned and played with the bauble again. Thinking for a moment, she added, “Interpol is
obviously following Carlisle’s movements, so they know he’s contacted us. I’m sure they are wondering
why we haven’t reported it.”
“I’m planning to blame the delay on my lovely but pregnant wife.”
“Ah, now that explains why you wanted to stay in this evening. Very clever, Mr. Steele.”
“Thank you, Miss Holt.” He mock-toasted her with his wine glass.
“That’s Mrs. Steele to you, buster.” Dropping the dishtowel on the counter, she walked to him and
reeled him in for a quick kiss on the lips.
“I’ll have to remember that.” He laid soft hands on her thickening waist and stroked with his thumbs.
The middle of her forehead crinkled. “Do you think we’ve been watched this whole time, and I’m just
now catching on?” The thought depressed her.
Seeing her face fall, he tried to reassure her. “Ah, I don’t think we’ve actually had someone spying on us
until today.”
“But--“ She could see from his eyes that there was more.
He tugged at his ear, unconscious of the automatic gesture. “There have been a number of ‘bumps’
against the security systems both here and at the agency over the past few weeks. Rather like mice
nibbling at the wires. Neither has been compromised; if that had happened, I would have told you
immediately.” He stroked her arms and flipped her hair away from her shoulders. “I didn’t want to
worry you, love. You’ve had enough on your plate for a time.”
She nodded. “I understand. What do you mean by ‘bumps’?”
“I’ve been experimenting lately. It’s a bit like stringing bells on a line. If you brush up against it, the
bells will ring. I suspect they’ve been attempting to tap our phones and sneak bugs into our office and
home.” He grinned wickedly and wiggled his brows. “But they haven’t made it past my little surprises.”
Smiling a little in response, Laura began pacing between the kitchen and living room. “If we’re being
watched, then they might have seen him carrying in your box and us carrying it out. That doesn’t look
good for us.”
“No--“ He was interrupted by the telephone ringing.
“Steele here.”
“Sir, Carter. He’s leaving.”
“Stay close.”
“Yes, sir.”
Remington set the phone down. “He’s making his move. I’ll lay odds that he’s going to the agency to
see what he can find. Care to change clothes, love?”
From the narrow space in the ceiling above the detective agency, Tony trailed competent fingers over
Steele’s security system and cursed a blue streak when he opened the panel. It was a convoluted
nightmare of traps, misdirection and good old-fashioned electric shock. Buchanan had already informed
him that his men had been unable to crack it.
Interpol might have said they wanted the Steeles to train their people, but they wanted as much
information on the pair as they could get as well. The police agency didn’t like anyone slipping their grip,
and Steele had done more than his fair share of that.
Tony personally resented the man for trapping Laura into a false marriage. Perhaps it was time to
liberate her from her cage. He rather thought the evidence he was carrying might be enough to do it.
Deciding on a bold move, he reached over his head and lifted a pair of wires. He cut both of them with
his knife before replacing the panel, backing out of the shaft and dropping through the ceiling into the
hallway bathroom. He returned the tile to its place to cover his tracks and then stepped lightly through
the darkness to pick the lock at the agency door.
He wasn’t trying to conceal his presence now, and he knew it would be only a matter of time before
Steele showed up. Normally, he would have busted through the door just to irritate the other man, but
since Laura worked here, he had no desire to distress her further. He wondered again how she had put
up with His Arrogance these last two years.
From the size of the office, he surmised that the business was highly successful. A quick reconnaissance
revealed four smaller offices, a break room and two identically-sized larger offices along the windows.
One had Laura’s soft touch reflected in the divan, the dazzling modern art prints and a delicate lamp on
the desk. The other had Steele’s stark sophistication with clean lines, old film noir movie posters and
only a few oddities on the shelves above the bar.
Taking advantage of the offerings, he poured himself a short glass of scotch and opened the video cabinet
tucked into the wall near the desk. It was rather like setting a scene, he thought as he popped in the
video tape. A few clicks with the remote had it set to the part he wanted, and he shut it off again.
He made a quick guess that he had less than ten minutes before Steele arrived. A nasty sneer appeared
on his face. It was going to be fun to nail the man cold with Carlisle and then conduct a romance with a
newly-freed Laura while her ex-husband watched from his jail cell. He settled into the executive chair
and propped his feet on the desk while he waited, idly looking through drawers while he bided his time.
Carter called again from a payphone when the man parked his bike just outside the towers. Remington
ordered him to wait for them in the stairwell of the twelfth floor.
Laura walked out of the bedroom, and Remington saw that she matched him, wearing black from head to
toe.
“I’m ready.” She tugged self-consciously at the sleeve, having had a few uncomfortable moments
finding a shirt that didn’t cling distractingly to her swelling breasts and belly. Out of desperation, she had
yanked one of Remington’s shirts off the hanger and pulled it on. A belt at the waist and a pair of
leggings gave her freedom of movement.
Admiring her form, Remington didn’t suppress the grin. “Good. Carter called. The tail just went to our
building. Nice shirt.”
She posed if she was wearing a beaded ball gown. “This old thing? I found it in my closet.” He laughed
before stroking her cheek and dropping his hand to her belly. A frission of anxiety shivered through him
as he recalled the sound of the heartbeat from the morning. Laura covered his hand with hers. “I won’t
forget, Rei.”
Involuntarily, his fingers twitched, and it was a moment before he nodded. “Of course.” He glanced at
the coffee table. “Would you bring the box? We might need evidence.”
They were halfway to the agency when both of their pagers began vibrating. “What’s the number?”
Remington asked.
Laura checked. “Two-two-four.” She knew he’d linked the entire security system to their new pagers
and could now tell what part was compromised by the number that appeared.
“He’s been in the attic. That means a professional.”
Seconds later, their pagers went off again. “Two-one-zero,” she read.
“That’s the front door. Lock’s been picked. Brazen bugger. He must know that the security’s been
tripped and picked the lock anyway.” They pulled up behind the motorcycle, and Laura automatically
noted make, model and license plate. She would call it in to Mildred later.
“Laura, look.” Remington pointed to the lit windows of his office. “Someone wants to be found.” They
casually walked into the building, taking the elevator to the thirteenth floor and coming down the
stairwell--picking up Carter on the way.
“Mr. Steele, Mrs. Steele,” he acknowledged.
Remington was short as he rattled off a list of orders to Kaleb. “We have a professional. Probably
Interpol. He’s in my office with the light on, so I assume he wants to be found and have a little chat.
Back up Laura through her office. And if necessary, shove her into the safe room.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Mr. Steele, I won’t make any stupid decisions.”
He clutched her shirt and pressed a hard kiss to her lips. “I’ll hold you to that, Miss Holt.”
With a confidence he didn’t feel, with half his brain focused on Laura and the child she carried, he held
the door open for the team, hesitating only long enough for her to drop the box on Ian’s desk and slip
with Kaleb into her office. Three, two, one … go. He pushed the door to his office wide open while at
the same time, Laura cracked the connecting door.
He didn’t bother to hide his annoyance at the sight of his old nemesis. Tony had been nothing more than
a bloody pain in the … well, nether regions, during his and Laura’s impromptu honeymoon in Acapulco--
and even later when they chased a false case to London. The man had flirted with Laura and used
Steele’s problems with the U.S. Immigration department to force him into helping Roselli expose a British
double agent in order to get back into the good graces of the American government.
“Well, well, well, it seems that I don’t have mice nibbling on my wires. Apparently, I’ve caught a rather
large rat.” The sarcasm in Steele’s voice came through loud and clear--and Laura had to stuff a hand in
her mouth to keep from laughing out loud at his comment.
As soon as he'd said "rat," she knew exactly who was on the other side of that door. She leaned back to
Kaleb and whispered, “Tony Roselli, probably CIA, but I wouldn’t swear to it.” Wait a minute. What’s
he doing here--now? A chill in her veins had her backing away from the crack in the door long enough
to retrieve the relatively new Beretta she kept locked in her desk. She didn’t think Tony was a threat,
but it never hurt to be sure. The waters could get deep very quickly with Roselli around. He had a way
of stirring up trouble.
Kaleb’s eyes widened as he watched her slide back into place at the base of the crack, holding the gun
competently in her left hand. She was such a petite, fragile-looking woman that to see her in a deadly
pose startled him, and he had to shake his head to readjust his assessment of her. In the nearly two years
he’d been with the agency, he’d seen her brilliant mind at work solving the most complex of problems.
He’d tagged along as she and Steele bluffed their way past even the most hardened of criminals. But
he’d never seen her ready to defend the life of another. Silently, he reached behind him and pulled his
own piece from under his jacket.
“Antony.” Cold formality coated Steele’s voice. “Did you forget where you work? Or do you need my
help getting your job back again?”
Tony hated the way the man pronounced his name but only crossed his arms a little more comfortably
and settled further into the desk chair. “Nice to see you too, Steele. Unfortunately for you, I’m still
employed--and my boss isn’t very happy with you at the moment.”
Acting more nonchalant than he felt, Remington walked to his own bar and poured himself a splash of
Amaretto over ice. When he turned around, the formal manner he assumed put Roselli on alert. “I see
you’ve already made free with my bar and my desk. Anything else you have in mind?”
Tony didn’t miss the implication about Laura and ignored it. He had read about Steele’s abilities in the
dossier. He’d known the man was quicker than most and took more chances than a drunk at a baccarat
table but hadn’t honestly believed that he was much more than a first-rate con artist. Which was one of
the two reasons why he was here--to make sure Laura was safe from his clutches--and to figure out why
Carlisle was talking to them anyway.
“Actually, I do. You see, I was handed some very interesting evidence and funny enough, your name
turned up. Yours and Laura’s. And then I took a look at this tape I was handed. You remember--this
one?” He held up the remote control and pressed the "Play" button. In seconds the screen was filled
with images from O’Callaghan’s cell--specifically, the part where Laura was screaming as Remington
held her down. He muted the sound but left the video on. “See anything familiar?”
“Turn it off,” Steele ordered. Fear of Laura seeing the tape nearly drove him to his knees, but he didn’t
let it show. Rage kept him standing. He was going to hunt Buchanan down and murder him. He’d
promised that the tape would be locked down. How in the bloody hell did it land in Roselli’s hands?
Tony yanked his knife out of his boot and began cleaning his fingernails. “I rather like watching it. I
knew you were a creep and a hustler two years ago. This only proves it. So tell me: how is Laura
handling the fact that you ought to be gelded for what you did to her?”
Doing his best to ignore the video, Remington narrowed his eyes and began walking toward the window.
“Laura is my wife. Be careful what you say about her, Antony.”
“Oh, I have nothing derogatory to say about Laura, only about you.” He pointed at Steele with the tip of
the knife. “Exactly what kind of deal have you struck with Carlisle? Going to take over his little empire
in Dublin?” The last statement will filled with sarcasm.
Remington deliberately turned his back to the room and stared out the window. From where he was, he
could keep an eye on Roselli’s expressions in the reflection on the glass. “Once again, you think you
have it all figured out, Antony. But you haven’t even begun to ask the right questions. I should ask you
a few. I’d like to know exactly how you got hold of that tape.”
Tony dropped his feet to the floor, shut the knife and toyed with it in his hands on the broad desk. “Well
now, that’s the interesting part. It seems that an Interpol agent by the name of James Buchanan wanted
our help in closing down the Dublin Six, especially since one particular member has quite a few assets
that have been moved in and out of the States. I received a very fascinating portfolio of evidence--
including a videotape and a dossier discussing how Laura posed as a snitch to pass information to
Carlisle. She was supposed to lay the groundwork so that an agent could be insinuated into his
operation. But she didn’t. She tipped him off, and he’s been staying two steps ahead of us ever since.
It’s not making you look very good, Steele.”
Remington deliberately provoked the man. “Antony, I can never quite picture you as a spy. Is that all
you’ve managed to dig up? I’m not impressed.”
“Not everyone needs to be able to blend with the British upper crust, Steele.” Keeping his cool, Tony
stood, keeping the remote in his hand as he rounded the desk to lean against it with arms crossed.
“Explain to me why I shouldn’t arrest you for assisting one of our most wanted fugitives.”
Remington sighed as if defeated. He walked out of the office and retrieved the box from Ian’s desk
where Laura had left it. With a sneer, he thrust it at Roselli.
Tony set the remote down and opened the thin package. He frowned when he saw the contents. Lifting
a picture free, he scowled in confusion. “What’s this?”
“Baby pictures. Johnny’s mother raised me until I was three or so. We’re cousins of a sort.”
“Why would Carlisle bring these to you now?”
“He hoped I would get Interpol off him. He thought Laura’s tip meant that I was interested in joining his
enterprise.”
“So what was this? A bribe?”
Steele shrugged, completely relaxed. He was in his element now--skillfully threading through the truth,
creating the image he desired. “Call it what you will. I told him I can’t do anything about Interpol.”
Befuddled by what he was seeing and hearing, Tony shook his head. “If you two are cousins, why
aren’t you a part of his operation?”
Remington sipped his drink. “Because even I have principles, Antony.”
“Principles? You? I’ve seen your dossier, Steele. Don’t kid around with me. Not to mention that I
know exactly how you’ve conned Laura these past two years. You’ve got a pretty decent set up here.
Nice, cushy job. Penthouse. Roll in the hay when you want it.”
Blue eyes iced over. “Leave Laura out of this, Antony.”
“How long is she going to buy your game, Steele? Because the one that you’re playing could land her
five to ten in the pen.”
Remington pivoted, coolly set his drink on the desk, then led with a right cross that landed on Roselli’s
good Italian chin. After that, the trading of punches was merely a given. With more than a little glee,
Steele took out weeks of burning anger on Roselli. This wasn’t boxing. It was an out-and-out dirty,
gutter-style bare-knuckled fight. And Antony was giving as good as he got.
Tony welcomed the confrontation with relish. Part of him was furious at having to investigate the very
man that made it possible to clear his name. The other part still held a small torch for his wife and
resented the feeling he’d lost the game before he’d even had a chance to play.
Laura dug in her shirt pocket and held out a five to Kaleb, but he shook his head and whispered in her
ear. “Nope. Can’t go against the boss man. Sure as hell wouldn’t want to meet either one of ‘em in a
dark alley.” They peered out of the door together as the two men slugged it out like a couple of bar
brawlers.
When the lamp on the desk crashed to the floor, Laura had had enough. She tucked the gun into the
back of her belt and shoved the door open, waving Kaleb to stay low and out of sight.
Both men snapped their heads around at her entrance. “Finished?” she said sourly. Remington
recovered first, standing up and touching the back of his hand to his lip before picking up his drink and
knocking it back. He forced himself not to glance at the video. He watched Laura instead.
Tony pushed himself up from where he was sprawled on the desk and leaned against it. “Hello, Laura.”
“Hello, Tony. Do you have a purpose here or did you stop by just to be annoying?”
He cocked his head as he flexed his hand. “Given the evidence I was handed, I preferred to think that I
might be coming to your rescue again.” He reached behind him and clicked off the mute button on the
remote so that the sounds from the video reached all of them. Remington’s knuckles whitened on his
glass.
Laura walked around the desk and retrieved the remote, pressing the mute button again. “Do I look as if
I need rescuing?”
Tony frowned. Given the description of her injuries, he certainly hadn’t expected to find her here--
especially not on two feet and dressed beautifully in black. It even appeared that she’d put on a few
pounds since the pictures in the dossier were taken. Certainly she was a little more … endowed … than
she’d been in Ireland two years ago.
Ignoring his perusal for the moment, Laura turned to watch the video. Both men were surprised to see
the Beretta tucked into her belt at the small of her back. Remington didn’t bother to hold back the
merest trace of a smile at her excellent demonstration of preparedness even as chills crawled down his
spine as his wife took in the awful images.
Tony caught his look and scowled. The two men had a staring match behind Laura’s back with Roselli
becoming more irritated and Steele more confident as the minutes passed. Regardless of her feelings,
Remington knew that she would keep Roselli in the dark.
When Laura had seen enough, she walked over to the machine and ejected the tape before calmly
shutting down the equipment. Fire crackled in her eyes, though she kept the rest of her countenance
expressionless as she asked, “What did you think to gain by bringing this here, Tony?”
“I wanted you to see what kind of person Steele really is. I need to know what kind of game he’s
playing with Carlisle.”
Sharply, she demanded, “Do you honestly think I don’t know what is in this video?” She held it up.
“What kind of detective do you think I am, Tony?”
Caught off-guard by her question, he rubbed the back of his neck. “I really don’t know, Laura. You
have a good reputation and all, but I’ve never seen you work. All I know is that we’ve been chasing
Carlisle, and he landed on your doorstep with that little white box. When he left, there was no box. Now
he’s on his way to Florida. What am I supposed to make of it?”
“Well, now you’ve seen what was in the box, and you know damned well by our phone records that
we’ve had no contact with him until he walked into our agency today.”
“Convenient,” he said bitterly.
“Accurate,” she shot back.
He rolled his eyes, annoyed by her caustic attitude. He hadn’t seen this side of her before. “Is she like
this a lot, Steele?”
Remington grinned. “It’s all a part of her charm.”
Laura didn’t even bother to cast a dirty look at her husband. Instead, still holding the tape in one hand,
she put her hands on her hips. “What else do you want to know, Tony?”
Steele could see that Roselli was becoming irritated at Laura and concealed another grin. She had a way
of needling a person that made him crack under pressure. No defense in the world worked against it--
except wit and a charming smile.
Roselli cracked. “All I want is to be able to walk out of here and honestly say that neither of you is
involved with Carlisle. I know that I owe you both, but I can’t let this one slide. Buchanan’s too close
and is pulling in every favor he’s got to take these guys down.” Tony knew he was giving out too much
information, but none of it was anything the Steeles couldn’t put together for themselves--and maybe
playing it straight would give him the answers he needed.
Remington ran his hand through his hair and picked up the box again, idly fingering the contents.
“Carlisle’s mother was my great-aunt. My mother died having me, and Johnny’s mother raised me until
she died. Johnny gave me to some cousins afterward--and to keep this short--I ended up in an
orphanage. There is no love lost between the pair of us. He offered me a position some ten or twelve
years ago, and I declined--knowing bloody well that it was a good idea to get the hell out of England after
that.”
Laura picked up the thread of the conversation and began pacing. “Remington didn’t know that I'd made
contact with Carlisle until it was done. All I wanted was to make sure that someone as powerful as he
didn’t come after us when Interpol closed in. Buchanan knew that and understood. When Carlisle came
today, he asked for our help in getting Interpol off his back and brought the box to use as,” she threw her
hands up, “either bribery or a goodwill gift--you decide. I’m quite certain, though, that if he hadn’t
needed something from us, that box would have never seen the light of day.”
She dropped the tape on the wet bar before turning around and fiddling with her wedding ring. Looking
back at Tony, she added, “Quite frankly, it infuriates me to know that there might be other things of
Remington’s in his possession that we’ll never see.” Laura saw her husband’s faint puzzlement out of
the corner of her eye. The thought had clearly not occurred to him.
Tony’s pager sounded and he checked the number. Without asking permission, he used Steele’s phone
to dial. “Roselli … got it. Stay on him and figure out where he’s going. I’ll catch up with you shortly.”
When he hung up, he eyed both of them as he talked--hoping to catch a hint of recognition in either of
their expressions. “It seems that Carlisle decided not to land in Florida after all. His plane is headed
toward the Bahamas.”
But they were both either unaware of Carlisle’s plans or were too smart to reveal them and kept their
faces blank. Laura tapped her finger on her elbow as she crossed her arms and paced. “The Bahamas
aren’t the closest place to get out of the U.S. It’s easier to go to Mexico from here. Perhaps he’s trying
to get back home?”
“Perhaps.” Giving up, Tony stood and shook his head. “If I find out that either of you knows more
than you’re saying about Carlisle--you both realize I will have no choice but to bring you in.”
Steele pinned him with another one of those icy looks and walked over to stand behind Laura. “I’ve
made it my business to stay out of Carlisle’s way since I was a tot. I’m not about to change course
now.” He played his trump card--just to annoy Roselli--and wrapped his arms around his wife, placing
his hands on her belly. “Especially not now.”
Laura pinked and her expression softened as she dropped her hands to cover his. Roselli blanched.
“You’re … gonna have his kid?”
She laughed at his indignity and Remington grinned with pride.
But Tony had another thought and flushed with anger. “You let your pregnant wife come with you when
you had no idea who was breaking into your office? That’s a good way to get her dead, Steele.”
In response, Steele called out, “Carter?” Kaleb pushed the door open with his elbow, revealing that he
was still holding his weapon on Roselli from where he was crouched on the floor. “I don’t let Laura do
anything. She and our associate were covering me.”
Tony flinched. He hadn’t thought that Steele would be astute enough to have that kind of backup. He
only shook his head and went to retrieve the tape from the bar, but Laura placed her hand on his as he
moved to pick it up. “No. It stays here.”
“Laura-“
“No, Tony. No one will ever use it against us again. If it’s needed for evidence, we’ll bring it to the
court. But until that day, should it ever come, the tape stays here.” Leveling a firm look at him, she
insisted, “You owe us that, Tony.”
Swearing under his breath, he moved his hand away to hold it out to Steele. “I’m sure you’ll understand
when I tell you I hope our paths don’t cross again.”
Remington took it. “My sentiments exactly, Antony.”
He eyed Laura for a long minute. “Good luck, Mrs. Steele.” He kissed her on the cheek and left before
her husband could aim another punch at his chin. Carter followed him all the way out of the building.
Laura turned in Remington’s arms. “You didn’t know I’d seen the video.” The barest nod of his head
acknowledged the truth.
Firmly, she shut down the flow of images from what she’d seen and kept her eyes on his. “It didn’t
seem fair that you would have to live with the memories while I didn’t. I saw the whole thing before we
left Ireland. I know exactly what we did … to each other.” She rushed through the last words. Steele’s
eyes flickered away and back to her, but she saw the dark anguish in them anyway.
New understanding had her widening her eyes. “That’s what you’ve been afraid of--that I didn’t know
and would leave you if I ever found out. That’s what you meant by being trapped.” Those steady blue
eyes stayed pinned to her as she took his fear and threw it away. “I’m not going anywhere, Mr. Steele.”
Remington crushed Laura to him and held on, relief and love washing away his anger at last.
Epilogue
Laura cleaned up the kitchen after dinner while Remington sat at the island, drinking his wine and playing
with the red diamond pendant he’d given her. She rubbed the back of her neck for a moment before
wiping down the counters.
Noting the movement, he asked, “Neck sore?”
“Um, no, actually.” Going with her gut, she offered, “This might sound odd, but I’ve the uncomfortable
feeling we’re being watched. The hair on the back of my neck is standing straight up.”
Smiling at her excellent natural instincts, he replied, “We are. We were followed by a bloke on a
motorcycle all the way home. I called Kaleb while you were in the tub, and he got a bead on him from
the park across the street.”
Irritation had her making her movements sharp and precise. “And you were going to tell me when?”
“There was no need. You already knew. Any particular reason why you are only now telling me?” he
retorted, neatly turning her statement back on her.
Laura threw her hands up and stuck them to her hips. “I don’t know why I have these debates with
you.” He only grinned and played with the bauble again. Thinking for a moment, she added, “Interpol is
obviously following Carlisle’s movements, so they know he’s contacted us. I’m sure they are wondering
why we haven’t reported it.”
“I’m planning to blame the delay on my lovely but pregnant wife.”
“Ah, now that explains why you wanted to stay in this evening. Very clever, Mr. Steele.”
“Thank you, Miss Holt.” He mock-toasted her with his wine glass.
“That’s Mrs. Steele to you, buster.” Dropping the dishtowel on the counter, she walked to him and
reeled him in for a quick kiss on the lips.
“I’ll have to remember that.” He laid soft hands on her thickening waist and stroked with his thumbs.
The middle of her forehead crinkled. “Do you think we’ve been watched this whole time, and I’m just
now catching on?” The thought depressed her.
Seeing her face fall, he tried to reassure her. “Ah, I don’t think we’ve actually had someone spying on us
until today.”
“But--“ She could see from his eyes that there was more.
He tugged at his ear, unconscious of the automatic gesture. “There have been a number of ‘bumps’
against the security systems both here and at the agency over the past few weeks. Rather like mice
nibbling at the wires. Neither has been compromised; if that had happened, I would have told you
immediately.” He stroked her arms and flipped her hair away from her shoulders. “I didn’t want to
worry you, love. You’ve had enough on your plate for a time.”
She nodded. “I understand. What do you mean by ‘bumps’?”
“I’ve been experimenting lately. It’s a bit like stringing bells on a line. If you brush up against it, the
bells will ring. I suspect they’ve been attempting to tap our phones and sneak bugs into our office and
home.” He grinned wickedly and wiggled his brows. “But they haven’t made it past my little surprises.”
Smiling a little in response, Laura began pacing between the kitchen and living room. “If we’re being
watched, then they might have seen him carrying in your box and us carrying it out. That doesn’t look
good for us.”
“No--“ He was interrupted by the telephone ringing.
“Steele here.”
“Sir, Carter. He’s leaving.”
“Stay close.”
“Yes, sir.”
Remington set the phone down. “He’s making his move. I’ll lay odds that he’s going to the agency to
see what he can find. Care to change clothes, love?”
From the narrow space in the ceiling above the detective agency, Tony trailed competent fingers over
Steele’s security system and cursed a blue streak when he opened the panel. It was a convoluted
nightmare of traps, misdirection and good old-fashioned electric shock. Buchanan had already informed
him that his men had been unable to crack it.
Interpol might have said they wanted the Steeles to train their people, but they wanted as much
information on the pair as they could get as well. The police agency didn’t like anyone slipping their grip,
and Steele had done more than his fair share of that.
Tony personally resented the man for trapping Laura into a false marriage. Perhaps it was time to
liberate her from her cage. He rather thought the evidence he was carrying might be enough to do it.
Deciding on a bold move, he reached over his head and lifted a pair of wires. He cut both of them with
his knife before replacing the panel, backing out of the shaft and dropping through the ceiling into the
hallway bathroom. He returned the tile to its place to cover his tracks and then stepped lightly through
the darkness to pick the lock at the agency door.
He wasn’t trying to conceal his presence now, and he knew it would be only a matter of time before
Steele showed up. Normally, he would have busted through the door just to irritate the other man, but
since Laura worked here, he had no desire to distress her further. He wondered again how she had put
up with His Arrogance these last two years.
From the size of the office, he surmised that the business was highly successful. A quick reconnaissance
revealed four smaller offices, a break room and two identically-sized larger offices along the windows.
One had Laura’s soft touch reflected in the divan, the dazzling modern art prints and a delicate lamp on
the desk. The other had Steele’s stark sophistication with clean lines, old film noir movie posters and
only a few oddities on the shelves above the bar.
Taking advantage of the offerings, he poured himself a short glass of scotch and opened the video cabinet
tucked into the wall near the desk. It was rather like setting a scene, he thought as he popped in the
video tape. A few clicks with the remote had it set to the part he wanted, and he shut it off again.
He made a quick guess that he had less than ten minutes before Steele arrived. A nasty sneer appeared
on his face. It was going to be fun to nail the man cold with Carlisle and then conduct a romance with a
newly-freed Laura while her ex-husband watched from his jail cell. He settled into the executive chair
and propped his feet on the desk while he waited, idly looking through drawers while he bided his time.
Carter called again from a payphone when the man parked his bike just outside the towers. Remington
ordered him to wait for them in the stairwell of the twelfth floor.
Laura walked out of the bedroom, and Remington saw that she matched him, wearing black from head to
toe.
“I’m ready.” She tugged self-consciously at the sleeve, having had a few uncomfortable moments
finding a shirt that didn’t cling distractingly to her swelling breasts and belly. Out of desperation, she had
yanked one of Remington’s shirts off the hanger and pulled it on. A belt at the waist and a pair of
leggings gave her freedom of movement.
Admiring her form, Remington didn’t suppress the grin. “Good. Carter called. The tail just went to our
building. Nice shirt.”
She posed if she was wearing a beaded ball gown. “This old thing? I found it in my closet.” He laughed
before stroking her cheek and dropping his hand to her belly. A frission of anxiety shivered through him
as he recalled the sound of the heartbeat from the morning. Laura covered his hand with hers. “I won’t
forget, Rei.”
Involuntarily, his fingers twitched, and it was a moment before he nodded. “Of course.” He glanced at
the coffee table. “Would you bring the box? We might need evidence.”
They were halfway to the agency when both of their pagers began vibrating. “What’s the number?”
Remington asked.
Laura checked. “Two-two-four.” She knew he’d linked the entire security system to their new pagers
and could now tell what part was compromised by the number that appeared.
“He’s been in the attic. That means a professional.”
Seconds later, their pagers went off again. “Two-one-zero,” she read.
“That’s the front door. Lock’s been picked. Brazen bugger. He must know that the security’s been
tripped and picked the lock anyway.” They pulled up behind the motorcycle, and Laura automatically
noted make, model and license plate. She would call it in to Mildred later.
“Laura, look.” Remington pointed to the lit windows of his office. “Someone wants to be found.” They
casually walked into the building, taking the elevator to the thirteenth floor and coming down the
stairwell--picking up Carter on the way.
“Mr. Steele, Mrs. Steele,” he acknowledged.
Remington was short as he rattled off a list of orders to Kaleb. “We have a professional. Probably
Interpol. He’s in my office with the light on, so I assume he wants to be found and have a little chat.
Back up Laura through her office. And if necessary, shove her into the safe room.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Mr. Steele, I won’t make any stupid decisions.”
He clutched her shirt and pressed a hard kiss to her lips. “I’ll hold you to that, Miss Holt.”
With a confidence he didn’t feel, with half his brain focused on Laura and the child she carried, he held
the door open for the team, hesitating only long enough for her to drop the box on Ian’s desk and slip
with Kaleb into her office. Three, two, one … go. He pushed the door to his office wide open while at
the same time, Laura cracked the connecting door.
He didn’t bother to hide his annoyance at the sight of his old nemesis. Tony had been nothing more than
a bloody pain in the … well, nether regions, during his and Laura’s impromptu honeymoon in Acapulco--
and even later when they chased a false case to London. The man had flirted with Laura and used
Steele’s problems with the U.S. Immigration department to force him into helping Roselli expose a British
double agent in order to get back into the good graces of the American government.
“Well, well, well, it seems that I don’t have mice nibbling on my wires. Apparently, I’ve caught a rather
large rat.” The sarcasm in Steele’s voice came through loud and clear--and Laura had to stuff a hand in
her mouth to keep from laughing out loud at his comment.
As soon as he'd said "rat," she knew exactly who was on the other side of that door. She leaned back to
Kaleb and whispered, “Tony Roselli, probably CIA, but I wouldn’t swear to it.” Wait a minute. What’s
he doing here--now? A chill in her veins had her backing away from the crack in the door long enough
to retrieve the relatively new Beretta she kept locked in her desk. She didn’t think Tony was a threat,
but it never hurt to be sure. The waters could get deep very quickly with Roselli around. He had a way
of stirring up trouble.
Kaleb’s eyes widened as he watched her slide back into place at the base of the crack, holding the gun
competently in her left hand. She was such a petite, fragile-looking woman that to see her in a deadly
pose startled him, and he had to shake his head to readjust his assessment of her. In the nearly two years
he’d been with the agency, he’d seen her brilliant mind at work solving the most complex of problems.
He’d tagged along as she and Steele bluffed their way past even the most hardened of criminals. But
he’d never seen her ready to defend the life of another. Silently, he reached behind him and pulled his
own piece from under his jacket.
“Antony.” Cold formality coated Steele’s voice. “Did you forget where you work? Or do you need my
help getting your job back again?”
Tony hated the way the man pronounced his name but only crossed his arms a little more comfortably
and settled further into the desk chair. “Nice to see you too, Steele. Unfortunately for you, I’m still
employed--and my boss isn’t very happy with you at the moment.”
Acting more nonchalant than he felt, Remington walked to his own bar and poured himself a splash of
Amaretto over ice. When he turned around, the formal manner he assumed put Roselli on alert. “I see
you’ve already made free with my bar and my desk. Anything else you have in mind?”
Tony didn’t miss the implication about Laura and ignored it. He had read about Steele’s abilities in the
dossier. He’d known the man was quicker than most and took more chances than a drunk at a baccarat
table but hadn’t honestly believed that he was much more than a first-rate con artist. Which was one of
the two reasons why he was here--to make sure Laura was safe from his clutches--and to figure out why
Carlisle was talking to them anyway.
“Actually, I do. You see, I was handed some very interesting evidence and funny enough, your name
turned up. Yours and Laura’s. And then I took a look at this tape I was handed. You remember--this
one?” He held up the remote control and pressed the "Play" button. In seconds the screen was filled
with images from O’Callaghan’s cell--specifically, the part where Laura was screaming as Remington
held her down. He muted the sound but left the video on. “See anything familiar?”
“Turn it off,” Steele ordered. Fear of Laura seeing the tape nearly drove him to his knees, but he didn’t
let it show. Rage kept him standing. He was going to hunt Buchanan down and murder him. He’d
promised that the tape would be locked down. How in the bloody hell did it land in Roselli’s hands?
Tony yanked his knife out of his boot and began cleaning his fingernails. “I rather like watching it. I
knew you were a creep and a hustler two years ago. This only proves it. So tell me: how is Laura
handling the fact that you ought to be gelded for what you did to her?”
Doing his best to ignore the video, Remington narrowed his eyes and began walking toward the window.
“Laura is my wife. Be careful what you say about her, Antony.”
“Oh, I have nothing derogatory to say about Laura, only about you.” He pointed at Steele with the tip of
the knife. “Exactly what kind of deal have you struck with Carlisle? Going to take over his little empire
in Dublin?” The last statement will filled with sarcasm.
Remington deliberately turned his back to the room and stared out the window. From where he was, he
could keep an eye on Roselli’s expressions in the reflection on the glass. “Once again, you think you
have it all figured out, Antony. But you haven’t even begun to ask the right questions. I should ask you
a few. I’d like to know exactly how you got hold of that tape.”
Tony dropped his feet to the floor, shut the knife and toyed with it in his hands on the broad desk. “Well
now, that’s the interesting part. It seems that an Interpol agent by the name of James Buchanan wanted
our help in closing down the Dublin Six, especially since one particular member has quite a few assets
that have been moved in and out of the States. I received a very fascinating portfolio of evidence--
including a videotape and a dossier discussing how Laura posed as a snitch to pass information to
Carlisle. She was supposed to lay the groundwork so that an agent could be insinuated into his
operation. But she didn’t. She tipped him off, and he’s been staying two steps ahead of us ever since.
It’s not making you look very good, Steele.”
Remington deliberately provoked the man. “Antony, I can never quite picture you as a spy. Is that all
you’ve managed to dig up? I’m not impressed.”
“Not everyone needs to be able to blend with the British upper crust, Steele.” Keeping his cool, Tony
stood, keeping the remote in his hand as he rounded the desk to lean against it with arms crossed.
“Explain to me why I shouldn’t arrest you for assisting one of our most wanted fugitives.”
Remington sighed as if defeated. He walked out of the office and retrieved the box from Ian’s desk
where Laura had left it. With a sneer, he thrust it at Roselli.
Tony set the remote down and opened the thin package. He frowned when he saw the contents. Lifting
a picture free, he scowled in confusion. “What’s this?”
“Baby pictures. Johnny’s mother raised me until I was three or so. We’re cousins of a sort.”
“Why would Carlisle bring these to you now?”
“He hoped I would get Interpol off him. He thought Laura’s tip meant that I was interested in joining his
enterprise.”
“So what was this? A bribe?”
Steele shrugged, completely relaxed. He was in his element now--skillfully threading through the truth,
creating the image he desired. “Call it what you will. I told him I can’t do anything about Interpol.”
Befuddled by what he was seeing and hearing, Tony shook his head. “If you two are cousins, why
aren’t you a part of his operation?”
Remington sipped his drink. “Because even I have principles, Antony.”
“Principles? You? I’ve seen your dossier, Steele. Don’t kid around with me. Not to mention that I
know exactly how you’ve conned Laura these past two years. You’ve got a pretty decent set up here.
Nice, cushy job. Penthouse. Roll in the hay when you want it.”
Blue eyes iced over. “Leave Laura out of this, Antony.”
“How long is she going to buy your game, Steele? Because the one that you’re playing could land her
five to ten in the pen.”
Remington pivoted, coolly set his drink on the desk, then led with a right cross that landed on Roselli’s
good Italian chin. After that, the trading of punches was merely a given. With more than a little glee,
Steele took out weeks of burning anger on Roselli. This wasn’t boxing. It was an out-and-out dirty,
gutter-style bare-knuckled fight. And Antony was giving as good as he got.
Tony welcomed the confrontation with relish. Part of him was furious at having to investigate the very
man that made it possible to clear his name. The other part still held a small torch for his wife and
resented the feeling he’d lost the game before he’d even had a chance to play.
Laura dug in her shirt pocket and held out a five to Kaleb, but he shook his head and whispered in her
ear. “Nope. Can’t go against the boss man. Sure as hell wouldn’t want to meet either one of ‘em in a
dark alley.” They peered out of the door together as the two men slugged it out like a couple of bar
brawlers.
When the lamp on the desk crashed to the floor, Laura had had enough. She tucked the gun into the
back of her belt and shoved the door open, waving Kaleb to stay low and out of sight.
Both men snapped their heads around at her entrance. “Finished?” she said sourly. Remington
recovered first, standing up and touching the back of his hand to his lip before picking up his drink and
knocking it back. He forced himself not to glance at the video. He watched Laura instead.
Tony pushed himself up from where he was sprawled on the desk and leaned against it. “Hello, Laura.”
“Hello, Tony. Do you have a purpose here or did you stop by just to be annoying?”
He cocked his head as he flexed his hand. “Given the evidence I was handed, I preferred to think that I
might be coming to your rescue again.” He reached behind him and clicked off the mute button on the
remote so that the sounds from the video reached all of them. Remington’s knuckles whitened on his
glass.
Laura walked around the desk and retrieved the remote, pressing the mute button again. “Do I look as if
I need rescuing?”
Tony frowned. Given the description of her injuries, he certainly hadn’t expected to find her here--
especially not on two feet and dressed beautifully in black. It even appeared that she’d put on a few
pounds since the pictures in the dossier were taken. Certainly she was a little more … endowed … than
she’d been in Ireland two years ago.
Ignoring his perusal for the moment, Laura turned to watch the video. Both men were surprised to see
the Beretta tucked into her belt at the small of her back. Remington didn’t bother to hold back the
merest trace of a smile at her excellent demonstration of preparedness even as chills crawled down his
spine as his wife took in the awful images.
Tony caught his look and scowled. The two men had a staring match behind Laura’s back with Roselli
becoming more irritated and Steele more confident as the minutes passed. Regardless of her feelings,
Remington knew that she would keep Roselli in the dark.
When Laura had seen enough, she walked over to the machine and ejected the tape before calmly
shutting down the equipment. Fire crackled in her eyes, though she kept the rest of her countenance
expressionless as she asked, “What did you think to gain by bringing this here, Tony?”
“I wanted you to see what kind of person Steele really is. I need to know what kind of game he’s
playing with Carlisle.”
Sharply, she demanded, “Do you honestly think I don’t know what is in this video?” She held it up.
“What kind of detective do you think I am, Tony?”
Caught off-guard by her question, he rubbed the back of his neck. “I really don’t know, Laura. You
have a good reputation and all, but I’ve never seen you work. All I know is that we’ve been chasing
Carlisle, and he landed on your doorstep with that little white box. When he left, there was no box. Now
he’s on his way to Florida. What am I supposed to make of it?”
“Well, now you’ve seen what was in the box, and you know damned well by our phone records that
we’ve had no contact with him until he walked into our agency today.”
“Convenient,” he said bitterly.
“Accurate,” she shot back.
He rolled his eyes, annoyed by her caustic attitude. He hadn’t seen this side of her before. “Is she like
this a lot, Steele?”
Remington grinned. “It’s all a part of her charm.”
Laura didn’t even bother to cast a dirty look at her husband. Instead, still holding the tape in one hand,
she put her hands on her hips. “What else do you want to know, Tony?”
Steele could see that Roselli was becoming irritated at Laura and concealed another grin. She had a way
of needling a person that made him crack under pressure. No defense in the world worked against it--
except wit and a charming smile.
Roselli cracked. “All I want is to be able to walk out of here and honestly say that neither of you is
involved with Carlisle. I know that I owe you both, but I can’t let this one slide. Buchanan’s too close
and is pulling in every favor he’s got to take these guys down.” Tony knew he was giving out too much
information, but none of it was anything the Steeles couldn’t put together for themselves--and maybe
playing it straight would give him the answers he needed.
Remington ran his hand through his hair and picked up the box again, idly fingering the contents.
“Carlisle’s mother was my great-aunt. My mother died having me, and Johnny’s mother raised me until
she died. Johnny gave me to some cousins afterward--and to keep this short--I ended up in an
orphanage. There is no love lost between the pair of us. He offered me a position some ten or twelve
years ago, and I declined--knowing bloody well that it was a good idea to get the hell out of England after
that.”
Laura picked up the thread of the conversation and began pacing. “Remington didn’t know that I'd made
contact with Carlisle until it was done. All I wanted was to make sure that someone as powerful as he
didn’t come after us when Interpol closed in. Buchanan knew that and understood. When Carlisle came
today, he asked for our help in getting Interpol off his back and brought the box to use as,” she threw her
hands up, “either bribery or a goodwill gift--you decide. I’m quite certain, though, that if he hadn’t
needed something from us, that box would have never seen the light of day.”
She dropped the tape on the wet bar before turning around and fiddling with her wedding ring. Looking
back at Tony, she added, “Quite frankly, it infuriates me to know that there might be other things of
Remington’s in his possession that we’ll never see.” Laura saw her husband’s faint puzzlement out of
the corner of her eye. The thought had clearly not occurred to him.
Tony’s pager sounded and he checked the number. Without asking permission, he used Steele’s phone
to dial. “Roselli … got it. Stay on him and figure out where he’s going. I’ll catch up with you shortly.”
When he hung up, he eyed both of them as he talked--hoping to catch a hint of recognition in either of
their expressions. “It seems that Carlisle decided not to land in Florida after all. His plane is headed
toward the Bahamas.”
But they were both either unaware of Carlisle’s plans or were too smart to reveal them and kept their
faces blank. Laura tapped her finger on her elbow as she crossed her arms and paced. “The Bahamas
aren’t the closest place to get out of the U.S. It’s easier to go to Mexico from here. Perhaps he’s trying
to get back home?”
“Perhaps.” Giving up, Tony stood and shook his head. “If I find out that either of you knows more
than you’re saying about Carlisle--you both realize I will have no choice but to bring you in.”
Steele pinned him with another one of those icy looks and walked over to stand behind Laura. “I’ve
made it my business to stay out of Carlisle’s way since I was a tot. I’m not about to change course
now.” He played his trump card--just to annoy Roselli--and wrapped his arms around his wife, placing
his hands on her belly. “Especially not now.”
Laura pinked and her expression softened as she dropped her hands to cover his. Roselli blanched.
“You’re … gonna have his kid?”
She laughed at his indignity and Remington grinned with pride.
But Tony had another thought and flushed with anger. “You let your pregnant wife come with you when
you had no idea who was breaking into your office? That’s a good way to get her dead, Steele.”
In response, Steele called out, “Carter?” Kaleb pushed the door open with his elbow, revealing that he
was still holding his weapon on Roselli from where he was crouched on the floor. “I don’t let Laura do
anything. She and our associate were covering me.”
Tony flinched. He hadn’t thought that Steele would be astute enough to have that kind of backup. He
only shook his head and went to retrieve the tape from the bar, but Laura placed her hand on his as he
moved to pick it up. “No. It stays here.”
“Laura-“
“No, Tony. No one will ever use it against us again. If it’s needed for evidence, we’ll bring it to the
court. But until that day, should it ever come, the tape stays here.” Leveling a firm look at him, she
insisted, “You owe us that, Tony.”
Swearing under his breath, he moved his hand away to hold it out to Steele. “I’m sure you’ll understand
when I tell you I hope our paths don’t cross again.”
Remington took it. “My sentiments exactly, Antony.”
He eyed Laura for a long minute. “Good luck, Mrs. Steele.” He kissed her on the cheek and left before
her husband could aim another punch at his chin. Carter followed him all the way out of the building.
Laura turned in Remington’s arms. “You didn’t know I’d seen the video.” The barest nod of his head
acknowledged the truth.
Firmly, she shut down the flow of images from what she’d seen and kept her eyes on his. “It didn’t
seem fair that you would have to live with the memories while I didn’t. I saw the whole thing before we
left Ireland. I know exactly what we did … to each other.” She rushed through the last words. Steele’s
eyes flickered away and back to her, but she saw the dark anguish in them anyway.
New understanding had her widening her eyes. “That’s what you’ve been afraid of--that I didn’t know
and would leave you if I ever found out. That’s what you meant by being trapped.” Those steady blue
eyes stayed pinned to her as she took his fear and threw it away. “I’m not going anywhere, Mr. Steele.”
Remington crushed Laura to him and held on, relief and love washing away his anger at last.
Epilogue